What He Doesn't Know
by whoslonelyroadistheanswer
Summary: Based off the film Bound. Emily's boyfriend is part of the Mafia. Somehow cash, drugs, gangsters, paint, and Naomi are involved.
1. Elevator Ride

Chapter 1: The Elevator Ride

"It's all part of the business," Tony says.

We're eating at a deli across the street from our apartment. He's on one side of the booth and I'm on the other. He plays with the long spoon in his strawberry milkshake. I pick at my salad.

"I know it's just business," I assure him.

He looks up at me and gives me a smile. "I know Red."

We've had this conversation before. We've had this conversation a million times. Every time Tony gets called from Thomas it forces us to reevaluate the Mafia. Today is no different.

Tony got called in this morning at five am. Thomas needed him to launder some money for him. We went to Thomas' mansion, got the cash, and headed out a real estate agent. We spent four hours at the real estate agent, put five million on a house, and now we're here at the deli.

In my silence I don't tell Tony how I want to leave the mafia. In my silence I don't tell him I want to leave him. In my silence I don't say anything. You can't say anything to the mafia at all, ever.

"You ready Red?" Tony asks me.

I nod my head. I've been ready to leave since we first got in here. Tony takes his last sip of milkshake and we're off.

We drive across the street to our apartment. Tony tosses the keys to one of the staff. The two of us enter the building. Our apartment complex is grand. Chandlers make their home suspended from the ceiling. The floor echoes our every step. The furniture is lavish, just like the people that live here. But all of it is a mask. If you take out the chandlers and rip off the covers of the furniture there will be nothing but the echoes of your step.

The doors to the elevators are just about to kiss by the time Tony and I make it through the long hall. Tony puts his hand by the doors. They reopen. We step inside. Already, the button to floor twenty-seven, has been pressed.

There's a women in the corner of the elevator. She looks like a construction worker by the way she dresses. She wears baggy pants and a wife beater. There are holes in her clothes and paint marks splattered everywhere. She has a hammer in her belt loop and several paintbrushes in her large pockets. Her head is faced down to the floor. Her blond hair covers her face. I can see the outline of her jaw line as her hair just grazes the edges.

Tony doesn't notice my staring at the women. He doesn't notice many things.

The woman finally notices my staring at her. She lifts her head up. Her face turns to me.

I hold my breath. Her eyes. Her eyes are a piercing blue.

She looks away but I don't. I let out my breath.

She looks again at me. I smile. She nods her head.

The doors open. Tony goes out first. I try to let the women go in front of me, but she stops as well. I slowly walk out of the elevator, trailing behind Tony. We make a right. The woman makes a left. She takes out her hammer and swings it in the air. She starts whistling. She opens an apartment door. I realize that she's working on the apartment next to mine.


	2. Black Coffee

Chapter 2: Black Coffee

Some old fool died there. At least, that's what Kieran says. He's the one that assigned me the job to paint and fix the apartment that I'm working in. He gave me a twenty and told me that there'd be more to come. How could I say no to that? He told me to take my time and threw me a wink.

So now I'm in the apartment looking for my keys and the paint bucket. Where did those things go? You'd think that with one person things wouldn't get moved. Things have a tendency to get lost but you have to be the one to have good sight. I take a moment to look around the whole apartment. I slap my forehead. I left the bucket in the bathroom.

I go over to the bathroom finding the bucket and the rollers. The rollers are stuck to the floor of the tub, dried. I take the bucket out, placing it on the tile floor. I turn the facet on hot. I stick my fingers in waiting for the temperature to warm up. When it does I put the plug into the bath. The bath fills up with warm water. I pull at the rollers. They free from the bottom of the tub. I shut off the water. I clean the rollers. When the rollers are clean from white paint I unplug the tub. I wipe off the excess water from the rollers. I take the bucket and the rollers to the living room.

Yesterday I had done a single coat in this room. Today I had to do the second and final coat. I pore the bucket of white paint into a pan. I take one of the rollers and dip it into the paint. I begin from the left side of the room to the right side. This room takes most of the morning and afternoon. I don't take a break until I hear a knock at the door.

I put my roller down into the paint bucket. I take a final look. Of course there are places that I haven't painted yet. I will have to go into closer detail with the brushes. So far the walls are blinding because of how white they are.

I walk over to the door. I peer into the eye hole. There's a women with red hair at the door. I open it. I step back and put my hand on my hammer.

"Hi," the women says. She steps into the apartment. I realize she has two coffee cups in her hands. One of the cups is filled with black liquid, the other is filled with brown. The brown one must have cream in it. I hope I get the latter.

"Hi, you were on the elevator right?" I say, trying to make conversation.

She smiles. "Yes. I saw that you were in the apartment next to mine and thought you'd like something to drink. You must be exhausted from all this hard work." The way she says exhausted gets dragged out nice and slow. I notice she checks out my arms. "Anyways, here." She passes me the coffee cup with the cream in it. I decide that I like this women.

"Thanks." I take a sip. It burns my tongue. I choke it down.

The women takes a sip, she doesn't seem fazed by the fact that the coffee is piping hot.

"What did you say your name was?" I ask.

The women looks up at me. "I didn't. And it's Emily by the ways. What's your's?"

"Naomi," I answer.

I blow on my coffee, determined not to let it burn my tongue.

"Well Naomi, I must say this apartment is looking significantly better than when Doug lived here," Emily says. Her eyes glaze around the room. "Wasn't the wall paper just awful?"

I laugh. "Yea, but you weren't the one who had to scrape it all off."

"How long did that take?"

"Two weeks." I finish my cup. Emily notices.

"Anyways, I should get going, thanks for the chat," Emily says.

I hand my cup to her. "Thanks for the coffee."

Emily takes the cup. "Any time." She turns around and leaves the room.

I watch the way she walks; her hips moving up and down every time she takes a step. She's beautiful. I hope she visits me again.


	3. The Stairs

Chapter Three: The Stairs

One would think that the blender in the kitchen is used to mix drinks but they'd be terribly native. The blender in the kitchen is used to block out the sound of Tony beating Chris to a pulp.

I pour ice cubes into the blender. I then add vodka and cranberry juice. I put the top on. I press the button to start this grinding, mixing, crunching, swirly machine. The ice gets shredded into a million pieces. I concentrate on the sound of this drink being made.

In the background I hear Tony's voice shouting. He has a demanding tone and his sentences are short. After each phrase there's a load of screaming from Chris. It seems to be a dance- Tony commanding steps while Chris trips over himself. This pattern occurs over and over again.

I run the machine until the drink becomes thin. The ice has melted and all you can hear from the machine is its engine.

It's quiet where Tony was yelling at Chris. Now there's hush. Tony whispers to Chris. Chris moans. It sounds like he's being gagged.

I pour the melted liquid-y drink into a glass. I'm not interested in what Tony does or do. I'm not interested. I repeat this over and over again.

Tony comes into the kitchen. He takes the blender and pours the rest of the drink down the sink. He brings the blender over to where Chris is.

I close my eyes even though I can't see them anyway.

"Chris, give me your hand!" Tony commands.

Chris grunts. I hear scrambled steps on the floor.

"Christ, thank you for your hand," Tony says. "I'm going to plug in this blender, turn this on, and put your hand ever so closer to the razor of it. So I'm going to ask you again, where did you put the five million dollars?"

There's a muffle from Chris. The blender starts spinning. Chris screams through his gag. I hear the crunching noise of Chris' hand getting abused by the blender.

I open my eyes and look at my drink. This is what Chris' hand would look like. I pour the drink down the sink. The red liquid swirls down the drain, slowly disappearing. I turn the facet on watching the red turn into a light pink.

I write a note putting it on the fridge door. I grab my keys and walk out of the apartment to the elevator. The problem with living on the top floor is that it takes the elevator a while to get here. After a minute I find the door to the stairs. I look off the ramp. In my bag I grab a coin. I know you're not supposed to do this but I do it anyway. I drop the coin off the side of the ramp. It's quiet in the stairwell. It's quiet enough to hear the sound of a coin whooshing through the air as it descends twenty-seven flights. The whole stairwell echoes when the coin reaches the ground.

I imagine myself being that very coin; my lifeless body pulled by gravity to the ground. I imagine my body as a balloon filled with blood so when I hit the ground I burst, blood spilling everywhere. I imagine my body not being found for ten years, after all, no one uses the stairs anyways.

My feet take me somewhere my mind does not. Somehow my legs are moving to the rhythm of each step downward. If I think about the motions that my legs are taking me, there's a likelihood that I will trip. I don't think. I can't think.

It's part of the business.

It's part of the business.

It's part of the business.

I've been here before a few times and I'm quite aware it's bullshit. There is a part in Tony that is sick. When I mean sick, I mean he's sadomasochistic. There's a part in Tony that enjoys seeing Chris' hand in the grinding, mixing, crunching, swirly machine. Tony isn't just doing these things for the business. He's doing them for himself.


	4. Toast with Jam

Chapter Four: Toast with Jam

Jail does not believe in nurturing your vice. But now that I'm out of there I have the freedom to smoke a cigarette. Of course, I don't smoke in the apartment. I take the elevator down to the ground floor. I walk out the building's doors and across the street. My truck is a block down. When I get to my truck I leap in the back. I look up to the blinding sun. My hands fumble around my pants for my cigarettes. I find them and light one.

I close my eyes, inhaling the cancerous smoke. Perhaps I do have a dying wish. Maybe we all have this part of us that is curious about the other side. I personally would like to dip my toe into death, try it out, and if I don't like it take my foot out. Cigarettes though, no matter how bad, are the only things keeping me from sticking my whole body in. Sure that's ironic, but we all do self destructive things to keep us sane.

After a second cigarette I'm ready to put my useless self to use. I amble back to the building. Before I go in, I notice Emily sitting on a bench outside. I smile at her. She doesn't respond. Her eyes are somewhere else.

"Hey Emily," I call out.

This gets her attention. She looks up and smiles faintly to me.

"That was some noise this afternoon?" I say this to make conversation.

Emily's eyes seem to glower. She opens her mouth to say something but then closes it. She stares at her hands.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you," I say. Emily doesn't seem to want to talk and I'm not the kind to push her. That noise this afternoon was quite a racket. I could hear it as if there were no walls in the apartments. The walls are thin after all.

I walk towards the building.

"Naomi," I hear Emily call out.

I turn around. "Yes?" I answer.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi." I continue walking towards the building. I take the elevator up back to my apartment.

The second coat of paint in the living room is finished. I take my things from that room and move on to the next one; the dining room. For every room I make an effort to protect the floor with plastic. I don't think people realize how important this step is. I, for one, know that sawdust, spackle, and paint are determined to make it to the floor. This is why I line the edges of the room with a two inch roll of blue tape. Once the perimeter is complete, I put down the plastic. The plastic gets taped to the edges of the blue tape by some other blue tape.

I take a step back from the dining room when all the plastic is laid out. My handy work is perfect. It has to be perfect; that's just how I am. If I'm going to do something, I have to commit one-hundred and ten percent. I know Kieran is only paying me twenty dollars a day but I don't think he understands what a polished job I'm doing. If he wanted a lackluster job, he should've hired my cellmate.

I continue, the rest of the evening, to work on the dining room. I take out the utility fixtures like the lighting and the outlets. I put those in a bucket inside the room.

I get my sanding machine out. I plug it into the wall. It vibrates in my hand. I glide the machine over the walls. Leftover bits of wall paper gets sanded down. It gets destroyed underneath the machine becoming nothing but dust. Wall after wall, the job gets done.

It's midnight when I'm finally satisfied with the walls. I clean them with a damp cloth and vacuum the excess dust on the plastic on the floor. I wash my hands and my face in the sink. My hair is covered white dust as well as my clothes. I try the best to shake it all out but it's not having it. I feel like a Russian tea cake.

I leave the apartment, locking the door behind me. Tomorrow I'd be here to finish that room. I take the elevator down to the lobby. The people that work at the lobby sign me out. They'd be the ones to tell Kieran the number of hours I work. I walk over to my truck.

Once I get into my truck a wave of exhaustion comes over. I need a cigarette. I haven't had one since this afternoon. I light one up quickly. I needed this. Whoever invented cigarettes, I thank you. I take another drag- I'm ready to go home.

My home is located on the other side of town. When I mean other side of town, I mean the part of town that has tennis sneakers on the wire and green colored lights illuminating a porch door. That side of town.

I pull up to my home. I make sure to roll the windows up and lock the doors on the truck. Finding my keys, I make it inside my home.

I live with five other people. Granted, it's only legal to have four people in this house, but whenever inspection comes around we say otherwise. I feel around in the darkness for the stairs. Once I find them I go up one flight, and then another. Yes I live in the attic. Yes I pay the cheapest rent, and yes there are mice there to give me rabies. Does this bother me? Does living on the street bother me? to both those questions, the answer is yes.

I find the crumple of cotton in the corner of the room. Some would call that unfit, I call that a bed. I crash on it. It feels like heaven wrapped in bricks.

I wake up to the sound of several gunshots firing off. Oh to live in a neighborhood full of gun violence. My mother would be so proud of the domestic abuse that goes around here. At least once a week I see a couple screaming with a gun and a frying pan. I call the police, but they never come here. They don't care about us. I think they see it as at social Darwinism: only the fittest- or in this case, richest.

Look at my watch; it's too early to wake up. I try to go back to sleep but I can't.

With the light streaming through my windows, I can see the orange colour of the walls in my room. It's a lovely orange. One could call it sunset. I painted it using old sponges since I'm too cheap for real brushes when it comes to my own recreational use. There's a poster of Rachel Maddow tacked to the wall. She's rather lovely. Cassie, the homeowner, gave it to me when I first started living here. Apparently I was the first person to pay my rent on time so I got a house warming gift.

I walk down two flights of stairs to the kitchen. Everyone is still asleep. I make some toast and spread jam on it. As for coffee . . . well, I don't exactly know how to work the machine since it's in Dutch. Cassie is the only one who knows how to work it. I do my own 'coffee'. I heat up some water, put it in a cup, scoop up coffee grains in a tea steeper, and put the two together. I wait for the coffee to steep before I drink it. It usually tastes nasty. The steeper's old so some grains make their way into the cup. I cough those up. Next, I light the first cigarette of the day.

One day at a time, that's how I like to live. On today's agenda; painting the first coat of the dining room, clean up the rest of the living room, and reinstall the lighting system in that room. I write this down on my arm so I don't forget.

When the sun has rose a bit higher in the sky, Cassie wakes up. She's wearing a see-through shirt, no pants. I believe once upon a time Cassie lived with a bunch of nudists. It's a lucky day when she wears anything at all. She has a great body, but it's a bit too thin for my taste. You can see every bone jutting out. She's gotten better though, at least, that's what I've heard.

"Good morning Naomi," Cassie says. She measures water into the coffee machine.

"Hey Cass, how'd you sleep?" I reply. I move over to her, bringing my empty cup. Hopefully she'll see that I need real coffee, not the stuff I make.

"Oh, you know . . ." She amuses. She puts the coffee in and closes the machine. She presses several buttons. I hear the water boiling to scream, then the coffee comes out into a pot.

"What do I know Cass?" Cassie always says this. She thinks everyone knows everything. The truth is, we don't know everything. I certainly know nothing about what Cass says ever. She operates on a different plane than the rest of us, that's for sure.

"We make certain choices, we pay our own prices," Cas replies. I'm pretty sure that this wasn't what her dream was about.

"That must've been a great dream," I say.

"Oh, it wasn't." The coffee is finally ready. She pours some into my cup. She takes the pot back to her room. Every day she takes the pot back to her room. I don't know what she does with it, but by the next morning it's back under the machine.

I water my coffee down with the tap. Cass' coffee is way too strong for anyone. I add milk and a teaspoon of honey. I take a sip. The coffee is still too strong.

Pandora comes down into the kitchen. She, apparently, has been living here for ten years. I don't know her whole story, but I know that she's smarter than most people give her credit for.

"Hi Naom's!" She yells enthusiastically. She's always hyper. I don't know what it is she takes. I don't think she does anything at all.

"Shhh, Pandora, people are still sleeping," I whisper.

Pandora covers her mouth. "I'm sorry. Did Cass take the pot to her room already?"

I nod my head. I give her my cup, not that she'll need it anyways. Pandora smells it and then hands it back.

"I think I'm fine, thanks. Do you like my socks? Aren't they whizzer?"

Pandora's socks are rainbow colored. They're pretty wicked.

"Yea Panda, they're pretty sick. You should show Cass them, I bet she'll be jealous," I say.

Panda laughs, "Yea, maybe."

Panda puts some frozen waffles into the toaster. Every morning she has those with maple syrup. Every. Single. Day.

The way I see it, I will die of lung cancer. Cassie will die of starvation. Pandora will die of diabetes. The three of us need to reconsider our eating habits. However, if Pandora has been eating ten years of waffles, I don't believe she's so quick to change her vice.

"Anyways Panda, I've got to go take a shower and get dressed. Have a lovely red of your day. Be sure to flash every gay, lesbian, and transgendered person your socks. Oh wait, I don't think you'll have to go very far since they all live here," I say. I wash my cup out putting it back in the cupboard.

I take my shower, washing all of the dust out of my hair. There is no shampoo in the shower so I use liquid soap to run through my scalp. Yes I'm cheap. I think I've already established how cheap I am.

After my shower, I get dressed and head out for the day. On my way over to the apartment my cell phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey Naomi, the neighbor next door in room twenty-seven b asked if you could help her. She lost something down the drain pipe and needs some help. It would be great if you could do that." By the sound of the voice I could only guess it was Kieran on the phone.

"You know Kieran, that is a really cliché thing to do, what if she tries to seduce me?" I reply.

I hear a pause. "Then just think of it as an added bonus to your job. Back in my day-"

"I really don't want to know Kieran." I cut him off. "But yea, I'll do it."

I close my phone. Emily lives in twenty-seven b.


	5. The Closet

Chapter Five: The Closet

The second I got off the phone with Kieran I smiled. Tony wouldn't be here all day. Ever since the elevator ride I've been thinking about that blond haired blue eyed dyke. I had strategically given her that coffee along with my long lingering looks. As for her finding me outside, well, that wasn't planned. This was though; this morning I had dropped my earring down the sink.

Now, standing in my walk in closet, I plan my outfit. Day-time clothes were out of the question. I needed something that says that I hang out in lingerie all day. I go over to my sleepwear. What would she like?

If I were a strong women who knew how to fix things, I would love to come how to a women wearing nothing but Chanel number Five. Wearing nothing, would be too obvious. You need to build flirtation and foreplay for this to work. The seduction is just as important as the actual sex.

I pick out one of my favorite pieces of lingerie. It's a red baby doll slip. Lace accents the hem and the bust of garment. I put it on. It highlights all my assets and enhances the redness of my hair. This is perfect.

I imagine her coming to my door, ignoring the earring in the sink, and fucking me senseless. I imagine her taking me to the edge of my couch, slowly taking the straps of my slip down, and caressing my breast. My voice will hitch. She would take that as a signal to look straight into my eyes as she lowers her hand.

The whole time this fantasy is playing out, I enact it myself. Closing my yes, I use one of my hands to touch the curve of my breast. The other hand lingers downward to my clit. I tease it with my first and second finger. My clit begins to throb. This is how I know I need more friction. I add a third finger. I swirl my hand against the clit. I can feel the heat of my arousal come out of my sex. I am wet enough to slide my hand inside myself. The hand I was using for my breast is now inside of me. I thrust my hand in and out. The other hand still makes circles around my clit. My hips grind into my palms. I open my eyes. In the mirror in front of me, I see everything I'm doing myself. This sets me over the edge.

My climax is short and sweet, but I know Naomi will be here sometime today to fulfill that satisfaction. Meanwhile, I think it's time for a change of underwear.

I hear a knock at the door. I step out of my underwear and throw it in the laundry bin. I pull a black satin bathrobe on and side into a pair of heels

"Hello," I say when I open the door. My voice comes out a bit husky. I clear my throat.

Naomi is not immune to my body. I see her eyes gauging up and down. The way she's looking at me is the same way I looked at her in the elevator. She smiles. This time is it's my turn to nod my head.

"Come in," I request. I put my hands on my hips, clearing the robe away. This reveals the red slip beneath.

Naomi glances down at my little number; then she looks back at my face. We both know how this is going to end up.

"Where's the sink?" She asks as she enters my apartment. She closes the door behind her.

"It's in here." I lead her to the kitchen taking time to walk slowly and paying extra attention to the way my hips are moving. Yes, I did use this same tactic when I delivered her coffee yesterday. I feel her eyes on my back. "That sink." I point to it.

Naomi get's down on her hands and knees. She opens the cabinet under the sink finding the tail and the trap.

"Do you have a bucket of some sort?" she wonders.

"Yes," I say. My voice gets caught in my throat again. It comes out husky. I go to my bedroom. I knew she would need a bucket which is why I conveniently placed one in my room. I hand the bucket to her when I return to the kitchen.

She gets a wrench out of her pocket. She works on the sink. I can hear water dripping into the bucket as she does this.

I stand right next to her. If, at any point in her work, she decides to look to her right and up, she would have a very nice view of my legs.

I hear a 'plunk' in the bucket. This must be my earring. Apparently Naomi thinks the same thing. I see her feel around in the bucket for it. She grabs it, bringing it out into the light.

"You found it!" I exclaim. I take it from her. I smile. "Thank you so much! There must be something I can do to repay you." I say.

She shakes her head no. Naomi works to undo what she did to the sink. A moment later she takes the bucket out. She puts it in the sink. Naomi washes her hands.

"Please at the very least; let me make you a drink?" I request.

"Sure, a beer will be fine," Naomi finally says.

I walk over to the living room. Tony and I have a bar in there. I bend down to the mini fridge to get her a cold beer. I take one out for myself as well.

"Here," I say. We're now in the living room. I open the beer for her. We clink glasses.

She sits down on the couch. Everything is going according to plan.

I sit down on the coffee table which is across from her.

"You seem nervous, do I make you uncomfortable?" I ask. I cross my legs.

Naomi just smirks. "No," she answers.

"Thirsty maybe?" as I say this Naomi takes a long swig from her glass.

"Curious maybe."

I suppress a laugh. "That's funny because I'm feeling a bit curious myself." I uncross my legs. I move to the couch, next to Naomi. "Would you do me the honors of putting my earring in for me?" When I say this, I bring out the piece of jewelry.

Naomi takes it from me. I bring my face forward.

Carefully, she brings my face into her palm. With her other hand she puts the earring in my ear. I put my hand on hers.

"Can't you see, I'm trying to seduce you," I say.

Her blue eyes tell me everything.

"I've wanted to ever since the elevator," I explain.

Naomi doesn't move. Has this girl ever been seduced?

"You only see what's on the outside but I can prove it to you." I take her hand guiding it down between my legs. "I've been thinking about you all day."

Her hand doesn't need any more encouragement. She can feel my wetness. She strokes my clit. My breathing catches. With her thumb she continues to tease my clit. The rest of her fingers make their way inside of me, one by one. She looks deep into my eyes.

"You planned this whole thing didn't you?" Naomi says. She continues fucking me with her fingers. She's built a rhythm and I'm already moving with her. "You dropped that earring down the sink on purpose, got all dolled up, called Kieran knowing he'd call me, gave me this beer, and showed me your wetness. This was all premeditated, wasn't it?"

I don't say anything. Her hand is thrusting harder into me. My clit is throbbing with anticipation of the expecting orgasm.

"Answer me," she demands.

I give out a little moan, this thrust was particularly rough. The intervals are becoming shorter, harder, and deeper.

"Just give me . . . just give me a fucking . . ." I whisper. I cannot finish the sentence. However, Naomi knows exactly what I'm saying. She leans into my lips. Our lips press together. It's the kind of kiss that stops your heart and leaves you breathless. It would leave me breathless if I wasn't already out of breath.

"Yes," I finally say, answering her question. I'm close now. Naomi can feel me tighten around her. Her fingers coming rapidly into me. My hips are thrusting in staccato. I need more friction. As if reading my mind, Naomi puts her whole arm into it. Her arm becomes a wave length construction. It adds the friction I need to have me come all over her.

She pulls out of me, circles around my clit once, and then brings it to my face. I lick myself off of her.

"I'm glad you seduced me," she says.

"Me too," I reply.

The door opens. Naomi and I jump off the couch. It's too late I think. I think Tony saw us.

"What is going on in here?" Tony yells. He grabs Naomi's shoulder, turning her around. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Naomi," Naomi says. She hides the hand she used to fuck me behind her back.

"Sorry, I thought you were a man, please excuse me," Tony apologized. "It's just your short hair, completely threw me off."

Naomi nods her head. She's cool as a cucumber. "It's quite alright, I get it all the time."

"I'm sorry, Naomi. I just thought . . . well anyways, I'm Tony. I guess you already know my Emsy don't you?"

Tony pulls me to the side of him. "She's quite the charmer isn't she?"

"Yes."

It's my turn to speak. "Naomi came over because I lost something down the sink. She's an amazing woman," I say.

"Well, thank you for rescuing my Emsy. Say, why don't you hang around for a bit, yea?" Tony suggests.

Naomi's eyes fly to mine. "I would love to but I really have to continue painting. I work for Kieran and all that. Thank you though."

"Well then, at least let me pay you for your trouble." Tony grabs his wallet, shelling out a couple hundreds.

"It really wasn't any trouble. The company was great and everything. No, I really couldn't, thank you though." Naomi walks towards the door.

I hear the door click shut.

"Listen Emily," Tony says, "be careful. I know Naomi helped you and everything but I don't want her rubbing off on you."

I take a step back. "What do you mean by 'rubbing off'?"

Tony sighs. He crosses his arms. "I think she might be homosexual."

It's my turn to sigh. "Anyway, why are you home early? How did your meeting go?"

Tony sits down on the couch. He turns the television on. "Thomas let me off early. He needs ten million to be laundered now."

This sparks my interest. "You mean five million from yesterday; ten million from today. How are you going to get fifteen million laundered if you killed Chris, our real estate agent?"

I pace back and forth.

"Get a new real estate agent," he answers.

For the rest of the day I hang out in the lobby. No, I'm not wearing my lingerie. I've changed into a little black dress. I read _Anne of Green Gables_ mostly because I'm pretty sure Anne's gay with Diana. No, the truth is- is that I've read the novel so many times I've got it memorized. It's a perfect novel to half pay attention to when you're looking out for the blue eyed blond.

Naomi doesn't come downstairs until late in the night. I follow her out of the building, trailing ten feet behind her. She gets into truck and starts the engine. If I do not open the door now I know I won't have a chance. I open the door, slide myself in, and close it.

"Emily," she says. "Listen, I don't think this is a good idea."

"No, Naomi, I just wanted to say sorry," I utter.

Naomi taps her hands on the steering wheel. She bits her lip. "I hate it when women apologize for wanting sex."

I put my hand on her thigh. "I'm not apologizing for what I did. I'm apologizing for what I didn't do." I lean into Naomi. I kiss her lips. This kiss is like the last kiss. It left me breathless. I licked her bottom lick. "Take me to your place," I demand.

Without saying anything Naomi drives away. We head to the sketchy side of town. It's funny how no matter where you go, there will always be gangs to mess you up. You can be rich and be part of a gang or you could be poor and still be part of a gang. Naomi parks next to a house. She opens the door for me, leading me to her home.

The house is run down. It's painted many, many colours. It seems like someone started off painting a colour, ran out, and found a new one. I feel like I'm in a Technicolor dream. Naomi takes me up two staircases. Her room is orange. It's a sunset orange. The color is perfect for how I feel.

She crashes onto her bed. I follow suit. I strip off my black dress. The night of shagging begins.

I tell her everything with touches. _I want you_ gets said with fingers running up and down her body. I _hope you want me back_ is spelt on her thighs. I _don't want to be part of the mafia anymore_ gets licked on her breast. _You could save me gets_ a kiss on the lips. I say everything with touches. She doesn't touch me back though.

The next morning I sneak out early; or at least I try to. After going down two flights, I get stopped in the kitchen by a skinny blond woman.

"Wow," the women says.

"Hi," I reply. I try to get past her but she isn't having it.

"You're lovely."

The women lets me by. I leave the house. I call a taxi to pick me up. half an hour later I'm back in my apartment. Tony is still asleep. I turn the shower on.

There's a part of me that doesn't want to wash away the scent of Naomi. The other part of me knows it's not a good idea. I step into the shower washing away everything.


	6. Pancakes and Pasta

Chapter Six: Pancakes and Pasta

This morning I had felt Emily leave. It was easier this way; there wasn't any awkwardness and promises meant for breaking. For it benefitted both of us. However, when she left, there was an Emily sized hole in my bed. I never knew she was suppose to be there, but now there's nothing to fill it.

I open my yes. Rachel Maddow stares back at me. What would Rachel Maddow do?

I know what she would do. I don't like the answer entirely so I hide under my covers. Already I can hear her voice chanting into my ear about the politically right thing to do.

A few minutes later I find myself down stairs in the kitchen. Cass has taking the coffee pot and hid it in her room somewhere. Pandora, though, has made a stake of waffles by the toaster. Cook is by the stove flipping pancakes.

"Hey muff monkey, how'd you sleep?" Cook asks. He flips a pancake over. "Never mind, don't answer. Cass has got you down. Right mate?" he says the last part to Cassie.

"Right," Cass answers.

"So, what's with the pancakes and waffles? What are we celebrating?" I ask. In the four months I've been here we've never made this much food.

"We're celebrating because you finally surfed and turfed!" Pandora shouts. She takes her plate of waffles and brings them to the dining table.

"Are we really celebrating because I finally got laid?" I question.

Cassie smiles at me. "Well . . . sort of. I also sort of asked Cook if he could put pot into pancakes. He was up for the challenge. Pandora made waffles. I don't know why since I'm pretty sure we're just interested in the pancakes," Cassie says.

"And here we go!" Cook announces. He has a huge plate of pot pancakes. He brings it to the dining table. Pandora, Cassie, and I take our seats

"One, two, three, four . . ." Cook counts. "Where's the fifth one? I for one, am not serving any of these pancakes without the little Fitch. Someone wake him up!"

Cassie runs from her seat to get James Fitch. He is the youngest one of our crew. Because there are two James, James Cook and James Fitch, we end up calling James Cook, Cook. James Fitch is called little Fitch, or James, or Jameson, or twat. So basically: Cook for James Cook. Anything goes for the other James.

"Bullocks! Cass, stop grabbing my ear!" says the Fitch. Cassie has him by the ear and is dragging him to the kitchen table.

"Now little James, Cook here has made us some stoner pancakes. You will sit here and eat them with us, okay?" Cassie says. She sits him down to his chair.

"Now that you are all properly seated, I can proceed to give you these pancakes," Cook narrates for us.

He takes a spatula, serving three pancakes to us each. Fitch gets the first serving followed by Cass, Pandora, and I. Cook sits at the head of the table. He has three pancakes as well, the rest of them are on the middle of the table. No one touches the waffles that Pandora has made.

One by one we drizzle the maple syrup on. I try to eat slowly but the pancakes are so good.

"Cook, these pancakes taste like bollocky wankshite. I want some fish and chips!" the Fitch says.

"James, can I see you hand mate?" Cook asks politely.

The Fitch moves his hand over to Cook. Cook smacks it down.

"My hand!" the little Fitch yells.

"Yea, well my pot pancakes. You will never diss any of my food with pot in them. You get me mate? You will never diss any food with pot in them!" Cook smacks the Fitch's head. "Now eat your bloody pancakes!"

James picks at his food. I can almost hear the gears in his head turning. In the end, he decides that he'll eat the pancakes even if they do taste like bollocky wankshite.

Personally, the pancakes are magnificent. I think Cook made them from scratch. Cook does have a tub of THC butter that he makes once a month and uses sporadically.

Cassie has stopped eating her pancakes. The effects of the pancakes have gotten through her. I can tell because she has that smile. _That smile_. It's the kind of smile that says _I am about to get high and I'm going to love it_. It's also a knowing smile; _and the rest of you'll fuckers are gonna get stoned with me._ The rest of us fuckers do get high as a bloody kite.

Cass goes to the living room and lays down.

Pandora begins to runaround. She does this when she gets high. She runs around because everything is so much more intense. Pandora flies into a wall. She doesn't care though. She just wants to feel something, anything.

"If I was a rich girl . . ." the little Fitch boy sings. "Na na na na, na na, na na na . . ." James Fitch has this tendency to start singing songs when he's high. Not just any songs, but the songs he sings from work. You see, James Fitch is a drag queen. The songs he sings from work are drag queen songs. He continues his song playing with the rhythm of the notes and the sound of his words.

Cook stands up from his chair. He stands up a bit too fast. His chair falls to the ground. He runs over to the kitchen finding a pot and filling it with water. He begins to make pasta.

We eat a lot of pasta since we get high a lot. It's become a ritual of ours. Somehow, though, we haven't managed to burn the house down with our under the influenced cooking.

"I've got to go to work," I announce. When I say this, I can feel the words entering the world while leaving the atmosphere at the same time. "I think I'll take the bus," I add. I don't think it's safe for me to drive.

"Wow," Cassie says, "See you later." I see her hand stick up from the couch as she waves goodbye to me.

I go back to my room, get dressed, and try not to kill myself on the way down the steps. My perception becomes jagged. One moment I'm inside the house, the next, at the bus stop getting on the bus. I don't realize I'm back at the apartment building until I have a paintbrush in my hand. _How does this happen?_ The universe doesn't answer back. I think it's busy with other things.

"Shit," I say. What room was I doing yesterday? I try to remember but I can't. All I can think of is who I was doing yesterday.

For the next two hours my mind drifts between trying to remember what I fixed/painted and Emily. Mostly I think about Emily. I think about the sex I had with Emily. I think about her rosy lips, hard nipples, bum, and soft thighs. There's a warmth that grows between my legs. I try to ignore it but I know it's not going to go away any time soon.

I sit down in the kitchen. Light streams through the window. It feels nice on my skin. Outside, the sky seems to change different hues of blue. I think it's my eyes that are playing tricks on me. I stay there for a while. When the pot finally leaves my body I'm ready to function again.

Yesterday I finished the dining room. I had painted the walls and put back the fixtures. The next room would be the bedroom.

I take my sorry butt down to the bedroom. I'm exhausted for some reason. When I get to the room I lay down on the floor. The likeliness of me actually working today was getting slimmer and slimmer.

There's a knock on the door. Blood rushes to my face. It's Emily. It could only be Emily. Somehow I manage to make it to the door. However, Emily's already inside the apartment.

"Hi," the redhead says.

"Hi," I say.

She takes a step to me. "Eat lunch with me."

I don't say anything. Emily has turned around and headed out the door. She walks towards the elevators. I follow her. I realize just how hungry I am. My body is just aching for something to eat.

We take the elevator down. She gets her car. Emily takes me to a diner which is five blocks down. We sit at a booth, flipping through the menu. For some reason I get the feeling I've already been here before.

"I may have some alter motive for bringing you here," Emily says. She leans downs, looking at her menu from the table. At this angle I can see right down her low cut dress. Not this again. Emily really needs to stop angling her body this way. She did this yesterday and now she's doing it today. If she keeps this up I'm going to struggle not trying to shag her every time I get. She looks up from her menu. She knows that I know that she's doing this on purpose. Emily's a little minx.

Emily lifts her eyebrow.

"And what's that?" I finally concur.

"Well . . ." she begins. Emily lets her breasts fall against the table creating more cleavage.

I swallow. This woman could ask me to kill everyone in this diner- that's how powerful her seduction is.

"I need some help . . . to steal five million dollars," Emily says.

I rip my eyes away from her cleavage. "From who?" I ask.

"The mafia," she whispers. She leans away from the table. "I know this is too much for me to ask of you since we just met and whatever, but you could have half if not more if you help me."

"Emily, do you understand what you're asking me? We are stealing not just any five million dollars, but from the mafia!" I say.

"So that means you'll do it." She puts her fingers to her lips.

As if on cue the waitress comes over. She asks us what we would like to order. Emily orders a salad. I order pasta.

"You have no idea what you're asking. How much trust two people need to do something like this," I whisper. I lean into the table that's between us. "For me, stealing is a lot like sex. Two people that want the same thing sit in a room and they talk, they start to plan and it's like flirting, a kind of foreplay, because the more they talk about it the wetter they get."

I grab the glass that's in front of me. I take a sip.

"The difference is, I can have sex with someone I just met, someone I hardly know, but to steal I need to know someone like I know myself," I finish saying. I play with the rip of my drink.

Emily leans into the table. "Do you think you know me like that?" she wonders.

"You tell me," I respond.

Later, much later, Emily drives me to my house. We fuck again. This time, we're proving that we trust each other. She trusts me, that's for sure. I see it in the way she glides her hands up and down my thigh. She scratches them on the inside, not enough to bleed, but to intensify the sex. She kisses where her nails have been. Her lips climb higher on my thigh. Right before she goes down on me she looks into my eyes and licks her lips.

How is it this easy for Emily to trust someone? She trusts her boyfriend who's part of the Mafia. She trusts me who she just met. There are a million things I should be telling her about myself but I don't. I just let her take me in her mouth. Maybe this is all she needs to trust someone.

I know I need a whole lot more to trust someone. I'm just not sure if I can allow her to see my most vulnerable state.

Once upon a long, long time ago there was this girl named Sophia. She was my first love. I was twelve and she was fourteen. She let me fall in love with her. She knew I was infatuated with her. I would write her love letters. She never wrote me back. Yet I loved her. I loved her to the depth and breadth and height, my soul can reach when feeling out of sight.

I stole a diamond ring for her. She asked me to, said it would be an engagement ring. So I stole it and went to jail. She got engaged to someone else with that ring. When I got to jail I promised that I would never trust another. I haven't.

I know I should tell Emily this. I'm letting her fall in love with me. I know she calls it trust but I know it's love.

When I orgasm I know this is one of the ways Emily says _I love you_. She's revealing herself, all of herself, to me. There's a part of me that wants to do the same, but I know I can't. I can't allow myself to get hurt again.

It's my turn to touch, to tell her that I trust her. I hope, with my eyes, that I defy what my hands are saying. She doesn't know, though. As I thrust into her and her body tightens, I know she's close. She knows she's close as well. She opens her eyes as she climaxes. She trusts me more than I ever could.

When we both lay down, too exhausted to do much else, I sneak out. I try not to look at the Rachel Maddow poster. She would not approve of my ways.

Cassie is downstairs, half naked as usual.

"Naomi," She greets. She takes out two cigarettes. I follow her outside to smoke.

"We accept the love we think we deserve," Cassie says. "I think its bullshit. You're better than that Naomi. You're lovely." Cassie lights her cigarette.

I light mine. It's getting dark outside, but I can still see the wisps of smoke. They float to the great heavens, intertwining on the way up.

I've told Cassie about Sophia. She is the only person that knows which is why she's the only one who can give me advice about love.

"Did I ever tell you about the man named Sid I fell in love with?" Cassie asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Well I found him didn't I?"

I roll the cigarette between my fingers.

"You just need to find yours," Cass says. Even though her cigarette is halfway burned, she numbs it out. "I think you have." She flicks the rolled tobacco away. "You've just got to cherish it." She goes back inside the house.

I stay outside, watching the last bits of sun disappear between the trees.


	7. Dancing at the Blue Iguana

Chapter Seven: Dancing at the Blue Iguana

"Tell me," Naomi whispers, "about how you met Tony."

We're lying in her bed, together. It's the earliest of mornings. There is no sun outside yet but a stream of blue.

I open my mouth to answer, but then I close it.

Naomi doesn't push me though. She knows that some things are just better left unsaid.

Naomi moves from her spot next to me, to the end of the bed. She has a look at my feet and begins tracing patters on them.

"I'm telling you a story," she says.

_Me too_ I want to say but don't.

Once upon a time there were three young Fitches; Katie, James, and I. We ranaway from our parents because all of us turned out to be some sort of gay. Katie fell in love with the girl next door, Effy. James fell in love with women's knickers. I fell in love with my English teacher, Mini.

Katie and Effy left Bristol to go to America. There, they opened a nightclub. They invited James and I to stay and live with them. James left right away. I hung back. I was living with my English teacher still.

Mini was in her late thirties, twice my age. She was beautiful to me, though. She had freckled skin and the best laugh. I loved the way she talked. She had the best accent. It was so sexy. Everything about her was life.

Our relationship, you could say, was really in the dark. She was a closeted lesbian, and though I was out, I was never seen with Mini in an intimate way since she was my teacher. We broke up several times, these never lasted more than a day since I had nowhere else to go. Mini wanted to be out so bad but she couldn't because I was her girlfriend.

I could tell she was struggling coming to terms with her sexuality, wanting to be out, but couldn't because she was dating one of her students. So one day, while Mini was sleeping, I packed all my things and left to go to America. I left a note. It said that she should be free, and out, and someone who could give her everything she wanted.

When I got to America James picked me up. He was wearing the most outrageous things. He had a fuchsia pink dress, feathers everywhere, and a matching hat to top it all off. He was so very gay about everything that he didn't notice my tears when we got to Katie's club.

Katie's club was called The Blue Iguana. It was the coolest place to be in New York. Katie and Effy hooked up the place real nice with lights, a bar, a loft, and the best music. The club was underground and it only opened between the hours of eleven pm to four in the morning.

Katie hired me to bartend on all her nights off. On her nights on I danced at the Blue Iguana. It was great. I got to mourn the breakup with Mini by sleeping around with other women. Eventually I got over Mini, but that wasn't for a while.

Even though the club was the coolest place to be, we still had a hard time making ends meet. Effy began selling drugs. She got them from a woman named 'C', whoever that is, I've never met her and neither has Katie. Effy started out with class C drugs; valium, ket, GBL, GBG etcetera. We were making enough money to pay rent once Effy made that financial move. Yet, Effy wanted to marry my sister so she started getting class B drugs. She said she wanted to get the biggest diamond so that everyone would know that Katie was a taken woman. We were smothered in cash from that moment on. Katie did get that diamond ring. Effy became the happiest women after that.

And then things got a bit knackered. Effy stopped coming to work on time, said she had a hangover. Said she had this that and some more. Katie and her started fighting. Katie always won but Effy never lost either.

James started slipping up like Effy. He didn't show up to work. He forgot about Fitch family Friday dinners. He became terribly skinny. He started having a constant cold. His arms were covered in bruises and blisters.

A girl named Sophia came into the Blue Iguana. She took a class A drug, climbed onto the railing of the loft, and jumped. She died. The police declared it a suicide.

Several things became apparent; 1, Because of Sophia no one came to the club anymore. 2, Effy had secretly been buying and selling class A drugs. 3, she and James had became addicted to heroin.

Katie fixed these problems by: 1, selling the club. 2, throwing Effy in jail. 3. Sending James to a rehab.

Katie kept the ring. She loved Effy, really she did. She loved Effy enough to throw her in jail- that way, Effy would be forced to detox her body. It was a harsh move but for the both of them it was the right choice. Katie, I don't think, ever forgave herself.

What happened to me? The Blue Iguana got sold to Tony. He took over the club, renovated it, making it into a nice strip club. I became a stripper. There were no jobs for me. Tony only offered me the job because he knew I wouldn't have one. So every night, before I went on stage, I made sure to read a page of Sarah Water's _Tipping the Velvet_. Nancy, the main character, becomes a prostitute for a while and yet she remained her integrity as a lesbian. So right before I stripped I reminded myself to keep my integrity.

A few years later Tony joined the Mafia. He closed business, pointed a gun at my face, and told me to live with him. I've been living with him ever since.

I've been trying to find someone like Naomi for a while, someone unconnected, who doesn't know anything about Tony or me. I think that's why I trust her. I trust her because if I don't then there's no one else out there for me.

I don't tell Naomi this. I don't think she's prepared to hear the harsh realities of my life. I also don't think I'm ready to hear hers.

"Want a spliff?" Naomi asks. Her words bring me back to my reality.

"Always," I answer. She goes downstairs to fetch it.

I lay down, under the covers. The morning hue of blue has vanished replaced by a streak of yellow sun. It feels warm under the blanket, perfection.

I hear Naomi coming back up.

"Where did you go?" Naomi wonders. She's sitting on top of me now. "What happened to that charming redhead that's an awfully great shag . . ." Naomi pulls the covers off ". . . There she is!" Naomi has the spliff between her lips. With her hands she starts tickling me.

"Stop it! Stop it!" I laugh. This women is absolutely spontaneous.

She doesn't though. I love the feeling of her on top of me while she's making me laugh.

"Please! I can't breathe," I pant.

Naomi relents. She gets off of my body, sitting next to it instead. She finds a lighter to light her spliff.

"Let's see . . . one spliff, two mouths . . . why it's perfect," Naomi amuses.

"For what?"

"Sharing," she answers.

I elbow her. "You mean to say you weren't going to share even though you asked if I wanted a spliff? Naomi, where is your head?"

"On your cunt." Naomi blows out her smoke. She hands the spliff to me.

"Say, you ever done blowbacks?" I ask.

Naomi shakes her head no. "Can't people just smoke the damn things straight?"

I put the spliff between my lips. "Come on, help me, you wouldn't leave a damsel in distress would you?"

"Everything once," Naomi replies before taking the other side of the spliff.

I inhale and exhale. She does the same afterwards. We do this about once more and we're dizzy as can be.

For the rest of the day we hang out in her room. We rotate between fucking, getting high, and having little chats. At one point we start trying to build a fort.

"I feel about five," I say as I tack part of her bed covers to the wall. "Did you ever do this with your siblings, build a fort out of sofa cushions in your house?"

Naomi takes a drag on the third spliff of the day. "Nah, don't have any siblings. I didn't have friends either. I don't think I was a very socialable person. What about you?"

"I have a twin and younger brother. Once when we were younger my sister and I camped in the backyard. It was really fun." I finish tacking the cover to the wall. The blanket tiers over the bed in a triangular formation. Naomi and I are underneath it all.

"Naomi, why are your walls orange?" I ask. "Your truck is also orange, what's up with that?"

Naomi smiles at me. She passes the spliff.

"Tell me, what colour are my eyes?" she asks.

I know the colour without even having to look at her. I do, though. Her eyes stare back at me. I can't help it but use this as an excuse to kiss her soft lips.

"Blue," I say between a kiss.

She runs her tongue inside my mouth.

"Do you know something called colour theory?" She wonders. Naomi's lips pull away. She's on top now. Her legs are spread to each side of me. Somehow, from our kissing, we have lost the spliff.

"No, enlighten me."

Naomi sits on me. Her hand moves up and down my chest. She touches new areas of my body gauging reactions.

"There's this theory that every color has a particular colour it's compatible with." She takes her thumb and circles around my nipple. "Blue, for example, is harmonious with the color orange." She leans down to softly bite my nipple. I let out a moan. She sucks on it. I move my legs around her. "And that is why I like the color orange." She moves her mouth to my other breast. "I also like other colors . . ." She takes her mouth away to look at me. "I like the color red and brown." As she says this her eyes move from my hair to my eyes. "I also really like pink." She kisses me. "In fact, I love the color pink." Her hand moves down to my clit.

"There's also this theory that colour has a musical sound," Naomi says. Her thumb rubs against clit in circular motions.

"Naomi, shut up and fuck me already," I moan.

So she does.


	8. Coke

Chapter Eight: Coke

Emily left my house late into the night. I begged her to stay but she went regardless. I stayed awake replaying the sound of her voice and remembering everything we did in the last twenty four hours. When it became one o'clock in the morning I decide to forget about sleep.

Cook's bedroom is on the second floor, it's the only other room besides James. I knock.

"Come in," he says.

I open the door slowly. Even though he says I can come in, I know better than to believe him. Several times I've opened the door to him wanking off even though he says the all clear. As I open the door I listen to hear any heavy breathing, banging against walls, or any other signs that could give way. Once the door is wide open I see Cook in the corner, reading one of his porn magazines. I let out a breath. Thank god!

"Hey muff monkey, finally managed to put two brain cells together to visit the Cookie monster eh?" he doesn't look up from his magazine when he says this.

"Something like that," I say. I close his door.

His room is painted lavender. Cassie painted it as an April Fool's joke one year. It didn't bother Cook at all, in fact he loved it.

I cross his room to sit next to him. In addition to painting Cook's room lavender, Cassie also replaced everything purple. His bed sheets, for example, are purple.

"So, who's playboy of the month?" I ask.

He flips his magazine to the front cover. "Christina Hendricks," he proclaims. Right on the front cover there's a picture of a naked Christina Hendricks. "Aren't her curves lovely?" He says this more to himself than to me. "I'm sick of these skinny things. I want a real women, not like pubescent little girls with huge tits that they're always trying to shove in our faces. I want a women like Christina Hendricks, do you know where I could find one Naomi?"

"Well Cook, if you want a girl like Christina Hendricks you're going to have to own a suit," I reply.

"Oy! But I hate them suits!"

"I guess you're not going to get a girl like Christina then," I laugh. It's always great making Cook do things for the ladies. He would climb mountains, cross oceans, and eat deadly caterpillars for women. I would do the same, but I don't think I'm as motivated as Cook.

"Cook, I have a question," I ask tensely.

Cook flips the page. It's another naked picture of Christina. Now that I come to think about it, Hendricks is growing on me.

"Yes, Naomikins? Fire away," he says.

"Ifyouwantedtostealfivemilliondollarshowwouldyoudo it?" I rush out.

"Naomi, I can't help you if you talk really fast."

"Emily wants me to steal five million dollars with her, how would you do it?" I say slowly.

Cook turns the page again. He puts the porn magazine down. "Wait . . . little miss Emily, with the red hair who has shagged your brains out, wants you to steal five million dollars?"

"Yes."

"Shit."

He whacks me with magazine.

"Oy! Are you going to help me not?"

Cook puts the magazine down. He scratches his chin. "I don't know Blondie . . ."

The door opens from Cook's room. James stands in the doorway.

"Do you mind if I hang with you?" the Fitch asks.

"Sure, little man. Close the door will you, Naomi's plotting to steal five million dollars," Cook says.

The little Fitch sits next to me. I'm squished between James and Cook now.

"Yea? from who?" James inquires. He picks up the magazine. "She's gorgeous. Do you think if I dyed my hair red I'd look like her?"

"Mate, it takes more than dying your hair red to look like Christina Hendricks. You've gotta get the curves and tits and her milky white skin and her lips . . . all of it!" Cook says. He takes the magazine back. He flips to another page. "You see those tits? James, it would take you years of selling heroine to afford those tits."

"Yea, well maybe I'll get Cass to help me," James replies.

"Good luck with that," I say.

"Anyway, who are you stealing five million from?" the Fitch asks again.

"Emily wants me to steal five million from the mafia," I answer.

Cook throws the magazine across the room. "You didn't tell me you were fucking the mafia! God damn it Naomi! Those are important details!"

"Who's Emily?" the Fitch asks.

"That's the girl Naomi's been fucking for the last forty-eight hours!" Cook says.

"Do you know her last name?" James says to me.

"No . . . I don't think she's told me," I reply.

"Oh, okay."

Cook narrows his eyes to the Fitch. "Do you know her James?" he asks.

The Fitch shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe, but there's a lot of Emilys out there."

"She has a twin and a younger brother," I say.

"Thanks," the boy says nonchalantly. He gets up a leaves the room.

Cook nudges me. "Do you get the feeling that maybe he knows your Emily?"

I nod my head. "Defiantly."

"As in he defiantly knows Emily, right?"

I nod my head again. "Right."

"On a lighter topic . . . lets have a spliff and talk over this stealing five million dollars."

Cook crosses the room to his desk drawer. On the left hand side to the back he feels around for his Altoid tin. That's where he keeps his spliff. He takes one out and lights it. He inhales. Cook takes it out of his lips to admire the smoke coming out of the tip of it. He closes the drawer with his hip. Cook passes the spliff to me.

It's my turn to inhale. I take a long drag.

"Five million dollars," I say. I play with the words in my mouth. I pass the spliff to Cook.

Cook takes a drag. He grabs a stack of porn magazines under his bed. He keeps his favorites there. He gives me some. Together we page through them.

"You know Naomi, for a feminist, you aren't a really good one," James states.

"Yea, well, though shit." I continue flipping through his magazines.

We sit in silence for a while. These women are really, really decadent. I remember a time when I was in jail that I would die for some of these. They were gorgeously airbrushed and had the best sultry looks about them.

"This shit is serious Naomi," James says, breaking the pregnant silence.

"What is?" I lean over to look at his magazine. As usual there's just another naked lady.

"Not that, you. This . . ." he trails off. He closes the magazine. "You fuck with the mafia it's worse than any cop because they have lots of money and no rules. If you fuck them you've got to do it right."

"No shit! So tell me what to do!" I say. It's my turn to whack Cook with the magazine.

Cook turns to slap me. "Listen mate, have you even seen the money yet?"

"No."

"Well, you gotta do that first, and then we'll talk."

* * *

I'm back at the apartment. I need to get work done. The last couple of days have been mediocre at best. I tape the circumference of the bedroom door, put plastic down, and start to sand. I check my watch every five minutes. I want to get this room done today, even if it kills me. After I sand one wall down, I feel around for rough edges. No, it's perfect. I continue the rest of the three walls. The sanding gets done by the late morning. I grab a rag to get rid of the excess dust.

I don't know when or how it started, but I can hear a thumping noise from the ground. It sounds as if it's coming from the bathroom. I ignore the sound to continue wiping down the walls. After the third wall I hear shouting. This time I can't ignore it.

I hesitantly walk to the bathroom. In the toilet bowl water ripples to the sound of the banging. I hear some more yelling.

This has happened before. Several days ago I listened to the sound of blender and a man screaming. In my mind I had imagined a person sticking a body part into the blender to get that sound. Obviously I hoped otherwise. However, now that I know that the neighbors are mafia, I don't doubt this sort of torture.

I wait to hear the sound of a blender or a chainsaw but I don't. I look at my watch. After a half an hour the banging is gone. I resume to working on the bedroom

I clean up the last wall and then begin to paint. I dump paint into the roller pan. The white paint makes its way down, spreading out evenly. I love watching paint form and then reform as it gets interrupted. I stick a roller in, rolling out paint. I begin painting one wall at a time. Of course it isn't perfect. Since the rollers are too big there are gaps in between. I will have to go in with a normal brush to get into finer detail.

The first layer gets painted which means it's time for a smoke. I take the elevator down. Already my hands are cramping for a cigarette. I take one out to roll it between my fingers. Once I'm out of the building I light up.

"Naomi," a voice says.

I look around but I can't tell where it's coming from. After a moment I continue walking down the street. I debate going to the diner that Emily took me to two days ago. My stomach growls. This gives me an affirmative.

I walk down a couple blocks trying to remember where the diner is. I find it a half an hour and a couple cigarettes later.

It's funny, I've never noticed how posh this side of the neighborhood is. As I walk I notice all the stores that are advertised in _Vogue_. The women are dressed to the nines in four inch heels, red lipstick, and a bag with a label on it. God, to be one of these women; do they sit in front of a mirror all day trying to not get a wrinkle in their clothes? The store fronts reflect me among these women. Here I am with my baggy pants and a wife beater. There are random holes in my clothes, paint everywhere, and a crooked haircut. Emily is one of these perfect _Vogue_ women, what does she see in me?

I make it to the diner, order a coke, and wait for my club sandwich to arrive. A skinny boy with blond hair and blood all over his face slides into my booth.

"What the fuck James?" I yell when I recognize the boy. "What the hell happened to you?"

The diner goes silent with all my commotion. James really needs to reconsider some life choices with how he looks today.

"Didn't you hear me calling your name?" James wonders. His voice is whispy. He coughs into his hands. He coughs again, this time into a napkin. I see a spot of blood. James is really beaten up.

"James, what shit did you get yourself into?"

The waitress comes by. She stares at the bloodied James. She tries not to scream.

"Can I take your order sir?" the waitress hesitantly says.

"Coke and a hamburger please," James tells her.

The waitress writes that down. She scampers away as quickly as she can.

James opens his mouth to say something. He closes it instead. He coughs into his napkin.

"I followed you," he finally explains.

"No shit," I retort.

"No, I mean, from this morning. I hid in the back of your truck as you drove off for work. Cassie told me that you're painting the room next door to hers . . . So I followed you."

My club sandwich came along with James' coke. Suddenly I didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"I don't think you understand my motive," James went on. "Emily's my sister."

"Shit." In the four months that I've been living with James, he has never said anything about his family. All I hear about are the drag queen places he works at. I've never heard anything personal, ever. I always thought of him as a little wanker that said the weirdest combination of swears. I never knew anything of James.

"I haven't seen her in . . . about seven years," James continues.

James' burger arrives at the table. He takes a huge bite.

"It's a long story but . . . how do I explain this . . . My sister, Katie used to own a club called the Blue Iguana. Shit happened so she sold it to Tony. I went to rehab for a while but when I came out of my two year program I tried to find my sisters. Katie disappeared. Tony no longer owned the club anymore so I couldn't find Emily."

I nod my head. "So when I told you that I was sleeping with a girl named Emily who had a twin and a brother, you thought it was your Emily."

"Yea, and I was right." James takes another bite out of his burger. He takes a sip out of his coke.

"So why did you get beaten?" I wonder.

"Tony remembered my face. I also saw the five million dollars."

I pick at my sandwich. "Wait, Is Emily alright?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Never got a scratch that one."

James coughs into his napkin. He asks a waitress if he could have a couple more. She gives him a whole stack so he could clean himself up.

"Do you think I should still steal it?" I say.

James nods his head yes. "We should steal it; Cook, Cassie, Pandora, me, you, and Emily. That's the only way."

"What's the plan?"

James sighs. "Naomi, give it a rest. Let me eat my burger and soda in silence. Emily's coming over to our house tomorrow night. If you know what's good for you don't go into that apartment. Okay?"

"Okay," I agree. I take my sandwich and begin nibbling at the edges. _Don't do anything stupid_, I promise myself.


	9. Thomas' Mansion

Chapter Nine: Thomas' Mansion

I'm in my walk in closet trying to block out my thoughts. It isn't working. James found me today. I don't know how he knows where I live, but he found me. Unfortunately I wasn't the only one who recognized him. Tony did as well. Tony took James into the bathroom to beat him up. It was wretched. I tried to help James but Tony told me that if I did I would be next. I went to my room to try to block out the sound. The beating went on for forty-five minutes. Tony wouldn't kill James, he just wanted to scare the crap out of him. Tony was successful.

Later when I went to the bathroom, I found a note in the corner. James must've thrown it before Tony could lay a finger on him. The note said to be at Naomi's tomorrow night. How does James even know Naomi?

"Here, put this on," Tony says walking into the closet. He pulls out a black chiffon one shoulder gown. There are gold beads accenting the drapes. "We're having dinner with Thomas tonight."

I nod my head. I take on the gown and slip into it. I start doing my hair and makeup. Tony passes me a pair of black satin peep toe heels. I put those on as well.

"We're leaving at nine," Tony says.

I nod my head again. I had a half an hour to perfect my face.

In the mirror I can see Tony trying to find a dinner jacket, a tie, shirt, and trousers. He holds a jacket against my dress seeing if the textiles work together. He gets dressed, wearing a gold skinny tie to match. His shoes are Italian leather.

When nine arrives Tony picks up the case with the fifteen million dollars and throws me a mink coat. Right before we walk out of the apartment door Tony runs to the closet. He has a jewelry box in his hands.

"This is worth half a million dollars," he declares while opening the box. Inside is a gold necklace with matching earrings. He puts the jewelry on me before I can even comment on how beautiful they are.

Tony walks to the elevator me trailing behind. He presses the button to the ground floor. Right before the doors are about to close, there's a hand in between them. Naomi steps inside the elevator.

"Hello Naomi," Tony greets.

Naomi half smiles. She's looking at the case that's in Tony's hand.

I bite my lip. In the corner of my eye I can see Naomi doing the same.

The doors of the elevator close.

This is so awkward. I wonder if Tony knows that Naomi and I are sleeping together. I mean, obviously not, but whatif he does. I'm pretty sure Tony would strangle Naomi with his bare hands. I also wonder if Tony knows that Naomi and I are plotting to steal five million of that fifteen million dollars he has. I'm sure if Tony knew, he would stop the elevator right now to kill us both. But Tony doesn't know because Naomi and I won't tell him about our sleeping and stealing together. After all, Naomi and I are both alive.

The numbers of the elevator slowly go downwards as we descend.

You know Naomi and I could kill Tony right now, take the money, and be on our way. I see Naomi narrowing her eyes as she looks at Tony. She must be thinking the same thing.

Naomi's hand tightens around the hammer that's on her hip. We could defiantly kill Tony and get away with it.

Naomi could bash Tony's head while I'd press the emergency stop button. Naomi would then clean the blood with his suite. I would open the doors; together we'd drag his dead body to the stairwell and dump it there. Naomi and I would go to my apartment, have hot we-just-dumped-a-dead-body-sex, take the fifteen million, and getaway in her truck. Obviously this plan has a bit of editing but it defiantly has potential.

The elevator doors open. I guess it's too late to put the plan into action. Tony runs off to get the car.

"Naomi," I say, turning around to face the women.

"Ems,"she says.

"Were you thinking the same thing that I was thinking?"

She nods her head. "Yes."

I turn around to hurry of the lobby. Tony should be with the car by now. Before I enter the car door, I turn to see if Naomi's looking at me. She is. She's staring, her blue eyes, piercing into my brown ones. I close the door when I get into the car. She's still staring at me.

Tony and I are having dinner at Thomas' mansion. It's in the town over and a little ways drive. We make it in time though.

The guard lets us in to which the butler then escorts us to the library. Thomas' mansion always reminds me of the board game and film _Clue_. I always expect Miss Scarlet to arrive with a candle stick whenever I'm here.

The dinner bell rings. The butler escorts us to the dining room. Tony and I sit in the room for a couple minutes before Thomas arrives.

"Ah, Thomas, I thought you forgot about us!" Tony says in his charming way. He rises from his chair to shake hands with Thomas.

"How could I forget?" Thomas says. "And how are you my dear?" Thomas says this to me. I smile, holding my hand out. He takes it and kisses it.

Thomas and Tony both sit down. The maid comes in with a bottle of red wine in her hands. She's a clumsy girl, I can tell that by the way she almost drops the wine. She opens the bottle, the cork flying behind her, and serves it to each one of us.

Thomas lifts his glass. "To JJ," he announces.

Tony and I look at eachother, who's JJ? We raise our glasses though.

"JJ, is our new accountant, he will launder the fifteen million that we have," Thomas explains. "JJ, will you please show yourself?"

The man, named JJ, enters the dining room. He looks a bit shaken as he's not meeting anyone's eyes nor is he smiling. He seems quite somber. JJ sits next to me.

The maid comes in the room to fill his glass. She leaves.

"So JJ, will you please raise your glass so we can do this toasting," Thomas instructs.

JJ raises his glass. The wine inside is sloshing around like an ocean during a typhoon. JJ's wrist is shaking erratically.

Thomas seems not to notice JJ's fear. "To JJ as he is willing to launder fourteen million dollars, the rest is his," Thomas says. Thomas clinks glasses with Tony, then me.

Tony clinks with me. We all clink together in this awkward dining table. JJ spills a bit of wine, but no one says anything.

The maid and the butler come in with the first course of food. It is a split pea soup. Despite the fact that Thomas is ridiculously wealthy, he has hired a cook that is just awful at cooking. I know this after eating several meals at Thomas'. In particular the split pea soup is the worst. Tony and I share the same knowing looks as we dip our spoons into the soup. JJ doesn't know that the soup tastes like bollocky wankshite. He goes ahead and eats it. He starts choking because it tastes so bad. Thomas doesn't know nor care that the soup is making JJ's face turn green like the soup. I pat JJ on the back to relieve his coughing. For the rest of this course, JJ doesn't touch the soup while Tony and I try to look like we're eating. Mostly, we nurse on the wine.

The second course comes in. It is a salad. You'd think that no one could mess up a salad but the cook does. The secret is in the dressing. One of the first mistakes that Tony and I have made is thinking that the dressing is acceptable to eat- it's not. Somehow the cook decided to pee in it our something because the dressing is gross. Thankfully the dressing is on the side; our plates just have lettuce and some sliced up vegetables. Tony picks up his fork. This is the first thing that is edible tonight, it will probably be the last.

JJ mimics with Tony and I are doing. As the dressing goes around the table via the clumsy maid, JJ also decides to refuse it.

I catch JJ's eye right before he stabs a lettuce leaf. I smile. He smiles back. In our silence we make an unspoken alliance.

The main dish comes out. It is a duck. Each one of us has a whole one. Thomas goes ahead and rips his apart. He eats with his hands, whipping the excess grease on the napkin. I don't understand what Thomas likes about the duck. The duck is burnt and extremely salting. Of course duck is supposed to be salty already, but this is sickening. Tony peels the burnt skin off. Tonight the cook has put matters into his own hands. Not only is the skin burnt but also the meat underneath. I don't understand how Thomas can metabolize charcoal. JJ and I watch Tony closely as we wonder what to do.

The maid comes in to refill our glasses. Tony asks to fill it up to the top. She obliges. I ask for the same. JJ doesn't have a refill of wine.

Tony does nothing with the duck. He, instead, tries to engage Thomas in a conversation. Thomas is not having it though. He is having a field day on the duck.

I just sit there, across from Tony, next to Thomas and JJ. I wait for Thomas to finish eating his duck. I wait for the dinner to be over. I wait for night to be over. I wait to steal five million dollars. Mostly, I wait for Naomi so that way, we could do this together.

Desert gets served. It is some new experiment that the cook made. It seems to be made up of pear, cinnamon, and fish eggs. I don't know how the cook comes up with these ideas. Tony and I don't touch it after first try of it. Oddly enough JJ seems to like it. He consumes the rest of his in the matter of seconds. He then stares longingly at mine.

Coffee also gets served in this course. Tony and I bite the bullet and drink it. It's a bit weak. Actually, the coffee is horribly week. I can almost see the bottom of my cup, that's how clear the drink is.

The final course of food gets served. It is cheese. I made a silent prayer to whomever it was that decided to buy cheese from the store rather than make it. The cheese is edible! I take a cracker, spread brie on it, and eat it. Tony does the same except with the Swiss.

After dinner Thomas decides that we should go into the billiards room to talk. Thomas and Tony play pool together. I occupy myself with a game against JJ on another table.

"So Tony," Thomas says. He takes his stick to push against the cue ball to hit a billiard one. It's Tony's turn.

"Yes," Tony replies. He takes the stick from Thomas.

"Did you bring the fifteen million?" Thomas asks.

Tony hits the cue ball. A billiard ball falls into a pocket.

"Yes since you asked me to. I left it in the library," Tony answers. The maid who is in the room with us exits the room. She comes back after a minute with the case at hand.

Thomas takes the case from her. He sets it at the table. Tony goes over to the case. He sets the combination in.

The case opens up. Thomas smiles at all the money.

"JJ," Thomas says. "Come here."

JJ stops playing against me. He walks over to Thomas.

"This is the plan," Thomas begins. "You are going to take this money tonight, make whatever accounts you need to, I give you a million dollars of this money, and tomorrow at five I want you to drop this at Tony's apartment."

JJ nods his head.

"And if you don't . . . well, let's not talk about it," Thomas threatens. Thomas closes the case, giving it to JJ.

JJ hesitantly takes it. He brings it over to where he and I are playing pool.

"And Tony, two days from now Matt is going to show up so he can take the money to Singapore. Matt's flight is arriving at eight. You be ready, he's expecting dinner and some . . . entertainment if you will," Thomas says.

Tony nods his head. I see his face fall a bit. In the back of his head, I think he hoped that he could keep the money. Obviously, when you work for the mafia, expect the unexpected.


	10. Cassie's Special Blend

Chapter Ten: Cassie's Special Blend

After seeing Tony and Emily in the elevator I went home. I try to distract myself by watching television, but it's not working. I decide to smoke a spliff to get my mind to stop moving fast. It's not working. Sensing my agitation Cassie comes to the living room with a box full of weed.

"Come to the club with me," Cassie says. She picks up a bag of weed out of the box. She looks through the contents. "I'm just going to drop this off and then we'll come back."

I sigh. I get off the couch to go with her.

We take her car, it's a beat up white van. It's perfect for transporting cannabis plants and a drunken Cook sometimes. I hold the box as Cassie navigates though the back roads of the neighborhood.

"We're going to James' club, the one he dances at. It's called Cristal. Naomi, would you go to the back with the box and drop it off to the man named Maxxie. He's a blond skinny but built fellow. He owns the club by the way. Also if he asks who it's from tell him it's from C," Cassie instructs.

I nod my head. I'm always the middle man when Cassie does her deliveries.

As we near Cristal, I can see the lights of the club changing shape. The music is blaring. Cassie seems to be immune to how outlandish this club is. She pulls in the back and instructs me where the back door is.

I take my sorry butt out of the car, my hands holding the box. I go to the back door rapping on it. No one answers. I knock again but then decide to open it. The doors are unlocked. The back door leads me to the kitchen where twenty cooks are make some sort of fried something. I can'tell.

"Excuse me?" I say loudly.

One of the cooks comes over to me.

"How can I help you miss?" He says.

I lift the box a bit higher in my arms. "I'm looking for Maxxie, I've got a very special delivery," I answer. I give the cook a wink.

The cook smiles. He knows exactly what's in the box. "Ah, go down that hallway, there should be a door to the right. He's in his office."

"Thanks," I say.

I turn from the cook to find Maxxie's office. It's not too hard to find since there are only two doors in that hallway. I knock.

The door opens to reveal the tall skinny but built guy that Cassie was talking about. He looks at the box with a wide mischievous smile.

"C told me to deliver those to you," I say. I hold the box out. Maxxie takes it from me.

"Yes, tell her I say thank you," Maxxie replies. He goes to his desk in his office to pull out his wallet. "That should be it . . ." Maxxie amuses. He pulls out several hundreds and passes it to me. "Tell her I want another case two weeks from now, yea?"

I nod my head taking the money and then leave. Once in the car I pass Cassie the money.

"He wants another box two weeks from now," I say to her.

"Sweet," She says. She pulls out her agenda to scribble something down. "Say, want to see James dance? He just texted telling me that he's about to go on stage."

"Sure," I say.

I've only seen James dance once, that was on Cook's birthday, and James gave him a lap dance. From what I saw, James has some very good hip movements.

Cassie and I park in the front. She locks the doors as we head to the front of the club.

The bouncer recognizes Cassie. He lets us in immediately. Cassie smiles, as she passes him she slips him a bag of weed. Or at least, it looks like a bag of weed. There are some other things floating around in there that might say otherwise. I see some pink leaves and some powder at the bottom of the bag.

The club is jamming. There are poles all over, each with some sort of dancer. James should be on the floor somewhere. Cassie and I try to find him through the throngs of people. We can't though. People are circling the poles where the dancers are at. It is a thick cloud of people that we can't push through.

Suddenly the music changes and the lights shift. There is a spotlight a dancer. It's James. He has somehow climbed to the top of the pole. He starts singing, a microphone is attached to his ear. James is dressed in a shimmery bra with matching panties. He has makeup decked out on his face. He wears a wig to mask his short hair. James descends down the pole, the lights following him.

He continues singing. During an instrumental break, James climbs up the pole to turn himself upside down. He slides to the ground of the pole singing all the way. The crowd is in awe of him. They watch as he tap dances to the rhythm of the song. Some of them try to dance with him. James charmingly declines.

Another dancer comes into the act. The two of them tango to the other side. Together they climb up a pole. They mimic fighting. The crowd loves it. The second dancer starts singing a sweet melody accompanying James' song. The two of them finally get to the top. As they do one goes upside down lifting their legs in a 'V' around the pole. The other one sits normally. They look like they're fucking in the air. The crowd laughs at their positions. The two dancers descend down the pole.

The song is nearing to a close. For their finale the two dancers end up in the middle of the floor. They dodge people, using them as things to hide behind. James is looking for the other dancer but she is running away. Eventually, on the last note, James is able to find the dancer. They stand in the middle of the floor singing the last note. When the music ends, the two dancers strike a pose. The crowd laughs and cheers at their performance.

Cassie grabs my hand as the crowd ripples into the performers. She takes me outside. She lights a smoke and we go into the car.

"Sorry, I just didn't want to get stuck with all those people you know?" Cassie says.

"Yea, that was quite a performance wasn't it," I say.

Cassie nods her head. She starts the car. Cassie flicks her cigarette away.

"Ready to go home?" She asks.

"Yea," I answer.

Cassie pulls out of the parking lot. She speeds on home. This time she doesn't care about taking the back routes.

"I think that sort of traumatized me," I say to make conversation.

"Well," Cassie begins, "you need to get out more if you think that."

"Yea?"

Cassie makes a right turn. "I thought it was sort of beautiful."

I snort. "Of course you would."

The car goes into the drive way. I get out of the car to the door. Cassie follows suit.

"Say, have you ever tried my special blend?" Cassie asks. She unlocks the door.

"Nope," I answer.

She takes my arm leading me to her room. Her room is on the first floor. I personally have never been in there. I don't think anyone has been in there.

"Take a seat," She instructs.

I sit down on her bed.

Cassie gets down on her hands and knees to the floor. I see her tapping this way and that. When she finally hears something, she lifts the board. Three by three feet of flooring gets picked up. Underneath the floor is a ladder and a stream of light. Shit, this is where Cassie keeps her drug stock.

"Do me a favor and don't tell Cook about this. He knows I have a drug supply, but he doesn't know how close to home it is," Cassie says. She goes down the ladder to her drug room.

I make myself stay on the bed even though I am very tempted to see Cassie's secret room. From my spot I can hear Cassie russling through drawers, weighing things, and bagging them. I hear a stream of water hit something. Perhaps she's watering her plants down there.

Five minutes later- I know this because I counted to keep myself from going down there- Cassie climbs back up. She has a single bag in her hand and some rolling paper. She shuts the secret entrance of her lair.

She sits at her desk across the room doing something with the rolling papers and the baggie she has. I can't see her since her back is to me, but I try with all my might to.

Once she is done she brings out a lighter. She lights up. She turns around to pass it to me.

I can see the bag that she has now. It's the blend that Cassie had given to the bouncer at the club. I take a drag on the joint.

The first thing that I notice about the joint is how sweet it is. Cassie has done something magical with the taste of it. There is an underlining taste of weed, but you have to be searching for it to know. I can also taste tobacco. The second thing I notice are the effects. Of course, the effects don't come in until several minutes later, but I feel the slight light headedness of a high.

Cassie is smiling at me. Her face says 'I dare you'.

"Weed, tabbaco . . ." I say.

Cassie nods her head.

And then my sense of perception becomes lost on me. Cassie's face became disproportionate morphing into other colors.

"MDMA . . .: I continue.

The weed only seemed to enhance the effects of the MDMA.

"And ketamine?" I wonder. This is one of the most common drugs that could possibly be laced in Cassie's special blend.

"You're forgetting something important," Cassie says. Her voice seems to be coming from somewhere else. I lay down on the bed, letting the drugs take over.

"What's that?" The ceiling seems to move all over. It too morphs into funny shapes.

"Dried roses." Cassie takes a pause. "That's why it tastes so sweet. Don't you like it Naomi?"

I nod my head. The vision in front of me ripples away, a streamline of colors waving about. I begin to hear music coming from somewhere . . . probably from the inside of my head.

There is a knock at the door. Cassie goes to answer it. It's James, Cook, and Pandora. Cassie invites them in. She goes to her desk and rolls another one.

"Alright, whoever can name the correct ingredients gets the rest of the bag. How about it?" Cassie challenges.

She lights the joint, passes it to Pandora, who passes it to James, who passes it to Cook. Everyone then gets a second drag.

"Alright, whoever's ready, come over and whisper it in my ear," Cassie announces.

I can only imagine how the effects of Cassie's special blend are effecting everyone else. Personally, the colours that have been swirling in my eyes have all decided to take me under. It feels like a Technicolor dream.

"And James is the winner!" Cassie says after a few minutes. She hands the bag over to James.

The five of us continue our high, drifting in and out as each one begins and then ends. James makes a couple more joints to last us through the night though to the next day.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you to whoever has reviewed, favorite, and alerted this story.

Things you should've picked up on-

Chapter Three: The Stairs- 'I've been here before a few times . . .' a quote from Always by Blink 182.

In Chapter Five: The Closet- the 'Nothing but Chanel number five' was a reference to Marilyn Monroe.

Also in that Chapter, the earring scene- that was a reference to every earring cliché especially Bette and Tina in _The L word_.

Chapter Six: Pancakes and Pasta- When Naomi is narrating the story of Sophia and her she starts saying 'to the depth and breadth and hight, my soul can reach when feeling out of sight' which is a quote from _How do I love thee, let me count the ways_.

Also in that Chapter- 'we accept the love we think we deserve' said by Cassie is a quote from _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_.

Chapter Seven: Dancing at the Blue Iguana- In the film _Bound_, the actress that plays Violet (Jennifer Tilly) was in the film _Dancing at the Blue Iguana_. The chaper/name of the club was a homage to her.

Chapter Ten: Cassie's Special Blend- the club that James' dances at called Cristal, is named after Gina Gershon who played Corky in _Bound_ and Cristal in the film _Showgirls_. This is also a homage to the her.

Chapter titles- Emily's chapters are named after places. Naomi's chapters are named after things that can be consumed. I just thought it would be more interesting than having the chapter names switch back and forth between character names.

The whole story- think about the use of colour or lack of it.


	11. In Which We Kidnap JJ and Plot to Steal

Chapter Eleven: In Which We Kidnap JJ and Plot to Steal Five Million

Tony and I are staring at our watches for five o'clock. We know that that's the time that JJ should be here with the laundered fourteen million.

I have a plan of sorts tonight, though. This involves kidnapping JJ. JJ has information that may be credible to Naomi and James. Obviously, if we are going to go through with this plan we need as much help as possible.

The five o'clock bell rings in our apartment. The sound ricochets off the walls, bouncing through the air.

"Well, it seems that JJ is late, I've got to go and eat dinner with some friends. See you later Tony?" I say. I grab my trench coat as I walk out the door.

"Bye," I hear Tony say.

I head out the door to the apartment Naomi's working on. Thankfully she's there.

"Naomi, I need some help now. You got rope or tape or something?" I ask.

Naomi looks at me like I'm some sort of crazy. She doesn't ask any questions as she grabs duct tape off the floor.

"Do you need a bag to put over someone's head as well?" Naomi amusingly asks.

I nod my head. "A man, named JJ, is coming to the apartment any second to give the laundered fourteen million to Tony. He is going to exit our apartment. When he does we need to tape his mouth, bag his head, and tape his arms around his back. You got me, Naoms?" I instruct.

She nods her head. She starts tearing up strips of duct tape building a block of sizable tape that would be perfect to put over someone's mouth. Naomi is a good partner to steal five million from.

"Now, be quiet, we need to listen for JJ's footsteps, the door opening and closing, a conversation, and then the door opening and closing again," I whisper.

Naomi obliges. She passes the roll of tape to me. She's got the tape to put over his mouth and a bag that will go over JJ's head. Tape in hand, I start the strip.

Naomi and I lean against her apartment door. We hear the ding of the elevator doors opening. The sound of footsteps can be heard from Naomi's apartment. I hear the knock on the door. I hear the door opening, the sound of Tony's voice, and the door closing. It's time.

We open Naomi's door and quietly make our way to my apartment door. We will be waiting for JJ to come out. I listen against the walls. After all, they are thin.

I can't make out any of the words that the two of them are saying. I can only hear the sound of voices. Tony, who has a lower voice, speaks first. JJ has a higher voice, he seems to be nervous. I hear vowels tripping over themselves. He must be stuttering.

The door opens, JJ then closes it. Naomi springs into action. She comes behind JJ and tapes his mouth. She then bags his head. I take JJ's arms and tape them together. We drag the struggling JJ to the elevator. Naomi presses the button.

"Naomi, what if someone gets on to the elevator?" I ask. This is the flaw in the plan.

"The stairs then," she says.

We leave the elevator going to the doors of the stairs. Naomi kicks the door open. We lead JJ down.

"JJ," I say. "We are going to go down twenty seven flights of stairs. We don't want to you to get hurt but be aware that you are going down stairs. Don't trip yourself."

Naomi and I take one of each of his arms. We try to be nice and have him lead his stair descend. After three flights, Naomi and I are exhausted. We don't care though, we still want that five million dollars.

Twenty-two flights later, we are on the bottom floor. There are two doors. One of them leads to the lobby. The other door leads to the outside. Naomi takes a peek in one of them. That's the door that goes outside.

"Listen, I'll get my car," I say. "Keep JJ here. I'll knock three times on the back door, that way you'll know it's me."

Naomi nods her head. She pushes JJ to the wall, that way she'll have a better advantage if he decides he wants to escape.

"I trust you," I add.

Naomi nods her head again.

I go through the lobby door. I ask the front desk to bring my car around. One phone call later, I see my car out front. I get in, turning the car around to the back of the building. I leave the keys in the car as get out. I knock three times on the door.

Naomi is still there with JJ. Bless her! I open the trunk of my car, we shove him in. I close it. Naomi and I get into the car, closing our doors simulously. We drive to Naomi's house.

"Hey James," Naomi says into her phone. "Emily has a body in the car, we need some help lifting it out tell Cook to be outside . . . no it's alive James. Also, tell Cassie to get a chair with rope ready, we need to make sure he doesn't escape . . . Okay thanks." Naomi closes her phone.

She turns to me and holds my hand which is on the clutch.

"You know the difference between you and me?" Naomi says.

I shake my head. "No," I answer.

"Me either."

I smile.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Naomi asks. He reaches into her pocket to get a cigarette out.

"Only if you're by yourself when you do it." Naomi passes me a cigarette. During a red light I lean into Naomi. She's got the lighter ready in her hands. Naomi ignites my cigarette. I take a drag and then exhale.

"You know Naomi . . ." I begin.

"Yea?" She rubs her thumb on my fingers.

"I don't know much about you."

Naomi stops rubbing her thumb against my finger. "What do you want to know?"

I turn to look at her. I lick my lips. "Tell me something you've never told anyone else."

Naomi sighs. She takes a drag of her cigarette. "Can't things ever be simple?"

I shake my head no.

"And there's no way I'll be able to get out of this?"

I shake my head no again. The light turns green. I press on the gas.

"My mother, Gina, was the best mother in the world. She raised me up until I was twelve. She died that year, I feel in love, and ended up in jail."

"Is that all there is to you?" I ask.

"Pretty much." Naomi blows smoke in my face. "What about you?"

"Can't things ever be complicated?" I take my hand that's supposed to be on the clutch to hold her hand. I give it a slight squeeze.

"Obviously."

"When I was younger my sister, Katie, and I both fancied our neighbor named, Effy. We would hold competitions and the sort to try to win her over. Katie always won. I remember, Katie and me running around ten blocks. Effy would blow the whistle, Katie would be booking it down the road . . . this happened when we were nine or twelve . . . when we turned fifteen it was a whole different issue.

"Katie and Effy fell in love; they came out to their parents. My parents freaked out, we moved across town. Still Effy and Katie were persistent in their relationship. I came out to my parents a year later; I was in a relationship with my teacher, though I didn't mention that part. James also came out as transsexual. So here we have it, homophobic parents with gay children. They kicked us all out . . . and that is how I ended up here," I say. "I'm sorry if that was a bit much, I haven't told anyone that ever."

Naomi's blue eyes stare into mine. "That was perfect," she says. She leans over and kisses me.

For the first time in our relationship, this kiss didn't intend anything more. It was a soft, intimate kiss.

She pulls away. I drive on. My eyes flicker to her every so often.

I pull into Naomi's driveway. Naomi is quick to unbuckle her seatbelt, open the door, and get to the trunk. I hear Naomi talking to someone.

I get out of the car, the keys still in my hand. A man and Naomi open the trunk. They grab JJ by the arms, haling him inside the house. I see James opening the house door letting them come in. I follow them inside the house.

The man and Naomi tie JJ to a chair in the living room. I notice that there are concrete blocks that are tied to the chair as well to make sure JJ doesn't escape. A stick skinny blond women ties JJ's feet to the feet of the chair. His arms get bound behind him as well as his torso.

"You must be Emily!" This bouncy woman says. She has brunette hair tied into two pigtails. She's rather childlike. "I'm Pandora! That," she says pointing to the man helping Naomi, "is Cook. That . . ." she points to the blond skinny women, "is Cassie. See, now you know us all!"

"Thanks uh, Pandora," I say.

"Alrighty," the man named Cook says. "This is what's going to happen." He paces around JJ. "We are all going to have a drink and then sort out the plan, got it?"

Cook goes over to the kitchen to pull out a bottle of vodka. He brings out some glasses filling it with ice and the drink itself. He makes seven.

We all go into the kitchen where he's serving them. We down the drink in a second. There is one glass left over, no one touches it. Cook takes it over to JJ, the vodka bottle in hand. We all follow.

"Who is this?" Cook asks.

"JJ," I say.

"I wasn't asking you pretty lady . . ." Cook takes the bag off of JJ's head. He whips off the duct tape. JJ screams. There are red marks all around JJ's mouth.

"Who are you?" Cook asks again.

JJ stutters, "JJ."

"No, I mean who are you?"

"A-an a-acounta-ant."

"Who do you work for?"

"ID Bank," JJ says, this time with less stuttering.

"Isn't that the money that pulled a lot of shit on their clients lately?"

JJ nods his head. I can see sweat trickled down his face. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Nope, we just wanted to scare the shit outta you. Has it worked?"

JJ nods his head, franticly this time.

"Listen, gayjay . . . JJ? We know that you're working for the mafia . . . that you laundered some money for them. So here's the deal, if you're working for such high gangsters, why don't you work for us?"

"You're a gangster?" JJ wonders.

"Obviously, why do you think we went through all that trouble just to kidnap your sorry ass? Anyways, you're working for us now. What we want you to do is to get five million of that fifteen million they made you launder. You in?"

JJ stares blankly at Cook.

"Yay! Now, let's have a toast!" Cook takes the bottle of vodka in his hands, he pours it into our empty glasses. He feeds the glass he has into JJ's mouth. "Cheers!"

We all take a drink. Now, what's for the plan?

Cook seems to have that covered. After he shoves the vodka down JJ's throat he passes the glass to one of us.

"Emily, do you know what's going to happen to the money?" Cook questions.

"A guy named Matt is coming over tomorrow night at eight to take the money to Singapore. We have thirty hours to get the money," I reply.

"He's coming over to your apartment?"

"Yes."

Cook scratches his head. "What did you say your husband's name was?"

"Boyfriend," I correct, "and his name's Tony."

"What is his relationship to Matt? Do they like each other, do they not?"

I shake my head no. "Tony hates Matt, but Matt doesn't know that."

Cook paces around the room. He takes a sip of vodka out of JJ's glass. "And why does Tony hate Matt?"

"It started way before I came to the picture . . . Tony hates Matt because Matt always tries to steal his ladies. Usually Matt is successful."

"So that means that Matt has been trying to steal you?"

"Yes."

Cook nods his head. "Okay, here's the plan . . . at about six thirty, seven o'clock Tony is going to get ready for his visit for Matt. He's going to jump in the shower. Meanwhile you are going to break Tony's favorite drink. He is going to hear from the shower. He'll come out, when he does you'll just have to say that you have to go to the store. Tony will go to back to the shower, you will open the door, Naomikins will enter . . .

"Naomikins will get the money . . . do you know where it is? On the desk of course . . . take five million out, put newspaper or a heavy weight at the bottom so no one will notice the weight difference, and head out as Emily enters . . .

"Tony will get out of the shower, get dressed . . . you know do his thing. You will come up to him and say that you saw Matt downstairs, did he come up . . . Tony will be confused but then imminently think that Matt stole the money. He will check the case, be relieved that the money is still there. When he digs under he'll notice the money is gone.

"This is when it's most important Emilio, you have to act like you had no idea. Make it believable.

"Several things could happen; one, Tony just makes a run for it. Two, Tony knows the plan and kills Emily. Three, when Matt enters, Tony will kill him. If number two happens, Emily, you have to shoot Tony first. If the last one happens, Emily, you still have to kill Tony. That way you could say Matt was jealous of Tony's girl, killed Tony, tried to fuck you, and you had to kill him in self defense.

"Oh, and JJ, if anyone wants to know what happened to five million dollars, you have evidential proof of all the accounts you made that you did not steal the money. Tony took it. JJ, you will have to say that you saw Tony open the case, and take that money.

"Alrighty? Good!" Cook finishes.


	12. In Which We're Mad Hatters

Chapter Twelve: In Which We're Mad Hatters

Like any good hooligans who plot to steal five million dollars, we have a bon fire. It was Cook's idea. Each one of us participated in grabbing sticks to put into a pile. We didn't have any gasoline to start this fire so Cassie took the shampoo out of the shower. She squirted its contents out onto the pile of sticks. Tossing a match, the flames began to rise.

We had chairs out in the back yard. Emily sat on my lap. The rest of us circling around the fire, watching it a blaze.

Unfortunately JJ didn't get to enjoy this lovely view. He was still taped and roped down to the chair. Cook was nice enough to undo his fly so JJ could pee. Cook put a cup by his penis. Oh, Cook, always so thoughtful.

James sat next to us, whittling sticks. He was making marshmallow sticks things so we could roast marshmallows later. So far he only had three sorted.

"Emily?" James says to her.

"Yes?" Emily answers.

James plays with his knife, cleaning off the sawdust. "Do you know what happened to Katie and Effy?"

Emily shakes her head. "Not after Katie put Effy in jail."

"Oh." James' face falters. He picks up another stick to whittle with.

"Why, have you seen them?"

James doesn't look up. "No, not since then either. You have any idea where they went? Is Effy still in jail?"

"Does Effy go by another name? Maybe Elizabeth Stonehem?" I inquire.

James and Emily look at each other, then at me. "How do you know her?" James asks.

"I went to jail, several years ago, during my time there was this women who called herself Elizabeth but she preferred Effy. Anyways. She was a couple cells down from me, she had a notebook that she wrote everything in. I asked her once, what she was writing, she said love letters. I asked her to whom, she said that it was a message to the Dog Lord of Azerbaijan. He's got her toilet ticket."

James and Emily gape. "That was defiantly Effy," James acknowledges.

"And wait, Katie was in love with her?" I ask. The Effy I knew in jail sat in a corner, writing, and biting her nails. She occastionally shivered but never said much. When she did, rubbish like that would fall out of her mouth.

"You don't understand," James says. "She isn't like that. She was articulate and smart. She was caring. Before she became a heroin addict, she was this flame, heating every bit of everyone. So intense, it burned. I think that's what drew Katie to Effy. But as her addiction took over her, Katie did the only thing that would keep both of them from begin sucked into a vortex."

"I think . . ." Emily began, "I think Effy began heroine because she was so mad with love. You see, when you're so in love with someone, it's easy to feel trapped. I think Effy used heroine as a way to escape- to have some sort of control of how she was feeling.

"I think Katie knew Effy was doing it for that reason as well. I believe that the two of them were just so mad in love that they needed to separate. Katie, so she could figure out who she was. Effy, so she could get over her heroine addiction."

James passes out his marshmallow sticks. Cook, who has the bag of marshmallows, gives everyone three. I pop the marshmallows on my stick to roast.

I like the way Emily says 'mad with love'. I think it's an accrete description of how I felt with Sophia when I was twelve. I was so mad with love that I stole a diamond ring. We do crazy things for love. We become crazy people when we're in love.

Later, much later into the night, Emily is lying next to me in bed. No we haven't shagged. I don't think it would be appropriate after hearing about Katie and Effy. Instead Emily and I are watching the stars dance in the darkness. Neither of us are asleep.

"Have you ever been mad with love?" I ask. I turn to Emily, who is still tantalized by the stars.

"Yea," she answers. She moves her hand to cup mine. "I told you about my teacher, right?"

I nod my head.

"I was really, really in love with her. So much that I let myself stay in the dark about our relationship for years. It was toxic though. She was ready to be out but because she was dating a student she could never do that."

"So what did you do?"

Emily didn't say anything for a while. She squeezes my hand instead, drumming her fingers on the inside of my palm. "I left." I watch Emily as she closes her eyes, pushing the memory back far into a dusty corner of her mind. "What about you?"

I sigh. "I was twelve, infatuated with this girl named Sophia. She was two years older than I. I thought we'd be together forever. She told me to go get her a diamond ring. We went to a ring store, she pointed out the one she wanted, while she wasn't looking, I slipped it into my pocket. Low and behold, I got arrested. The next day I winded up in jail."

I pull my hand away from Emily. This story is getting a bit too touchy-feely for me.

"Wait, you said your mother died when you were twelve," Emily says. "Was this before or after you stole the ring?"

I turn away from Emily. "Before. I lived in foster care for a while. When my foster parents heard of my crime, they decided to put me in jail. They never really liked me anyways; said I never could shut up."

I hear Emily laugh but I bury my face into my pillow.

"That's funny because you don't really talk now." Emily taps my shoulder. "Please talk to me Naomi, I really want to get to know you."

I turn around on Emily's request. I don't like talking about myself anymore. It's just that I've felt so alone for so long, that learning to erase myself is something of second nature.

"Naomi . . ." Emily begs. "Naomi . . ."

I look up into her eyes. Nothing registers in my brain.

"Naomi please talk to me. I'm sorry if I crossed a line. It's just that I . . . I really like you."

"Why?" I whisper low enough that I could barely hear it.

"Because I've liked you since I first met you in the elevator."

I turn around.

"Just so you know, my first thought when I see you is not, "I want to fuck that girl". We've fucked plenty of times. It was nice. But it's also nice just being with you, when you're not being a prick, that is." Emily gets up from my bed. She begins putting her clothes on. I stay in the bed, tired from this conversation. "Tomorrow, we're still stealing five million so get that thing out of your arse." Emily left the room, her dress all crooked, hair displayed everywhere. She looks like a mad women she did, a lovely mad women.

I don't know when it happened, but I think I became mad with love. No, love isn't the right word. Lust- that's the word. I've become mad with lust. Emily Fitch, I don't know how it happened, but suddenly my whole existence belonged to her.

I feel like I'm twelve again. I've just met the most wonderful girl in the world and I'm infatuated with her. I'm so infatuated that I would steal a diamond ring for her. But I'm not twelve anymore though, so no more diamond rings. We're talking fifty grand.

I'm scared. I'm really fucking scared. I love Emily and it terrifying. I haven't felt this way since Sophia. What if I do get caught again though? There is no way I can go back to jail- it was just awful there. I also don't want to lose the relationship I have with Emily. I don't think I could stand being alone again.

Getting out of my bed, I put on some clothes to head to Cook's room. Cook always has an answer for everything, it may not be right, but it either gets you to laugh or drink. I knock on his door. He tells me to enter. I slowly open the door.

"Eh Naomikins? Ems not putting out tonight?"He asks. Once again, he has a playboy magazine out.

"Something like that," I say. I sit next to him, pulling out the Christina Hendricks magazine that I was looking at a few days ago.

"So what's the problem?" he asks. He turns his magazine vertically. There was a huge spread of a women with legs spread wide.

"I think I've gone mad." I close the magazine. Christina isn't doing it for me tonight. I pick up another magazine. "I think I'm in love."

Cook tears the magazine from his face. "What!"

I shut my eyes, slumping into the bed. I wish this wasn't happening. "It happened sometime between kidnapping JJ and eating marshmallows I think."

Cook lays next to me. "Does Emilio know this?"

I shake my head no. "I'm scared Cook. So scared. I feel like if I tell her I'll compromise the plan. Anyway, she got mad at me tonight because I wasn't talking because I was afraid to express what I was feeling so she walked out."

Cook takes a deep sigh. "Damnit Naomi, you still compromised the plan. Now she doesn't know if she can trust you because she mad at you! Jesus Naomikins, for an idiot you are a fool."

I don't say anything. For a while Cook and I just lay there, trying to ignore what a stupid fuck I am. I am a stupid fuck. Why didn't I just tell her I liked her back? Why didn't I sweep her into my arms, lit some candles, and fuck her senseless. Why didn't I say I love her? The answers to these questions are; I'm a coward.

"Tomorrow, you have to apologize for being a tit; if you don't she's going to think that you aren't trust worthy," Cook says.

I nod my head. Tomorrow, is so close, but also far away.


	13. In Which We Enact the Plan

Chapter Thirteen: In Which We Enact the Plan

I lied when I told Naomi that I 'liked' her. I love that blond haired, blue eyed, dyke. I think I fell in love with her the second she agreed to steal five million with me. Maybe it's easy for me to trust someone. Maybe it's easy for me to fall in love. But all I know is that Naomi is the answer to my escape.

She's been here before- She's fallen in love, stole stuff for love, and ended up in jail for love. Even though she didn't say it, I know she's in love with me. I just wish she'd be brave and want me back.

I think she's lonely. She needs someone to want her, well, I want her. I think she's been alone for so long that she doesn't know how to want someone back.

I'm making excuses for her. If she really wanted me, why didn't she stop me from leaving? This is a cruel question. I should be more understanding, but right now, I don't give a damn. I'm mad and angry and a little heartbroken.

Goddamnit Emily! Pull yourself together! Stop crying and pay attention to the bloody road.

It's dark, I'm swerving a little, but there aren't many cars out. Just a few hours ago Naomi was sitting next to me, petting my hand, telling me about her life story. Just a few days ago Naomi and I were making love, building a fort, and smoking spliffs. I wish I could extract the feeling of that time, save it in a jar, and use it when I'm feeling miserable. I wish I could use the jar now. But there's no such thing as saving happiness in a jar, the closest they've got are antidepressants.

I don't go to my apartment, not just yet. I take a turn to the diner. This is where I initiated the idea of stealing to Naomi. I park the car in the back, locking the doors, and head into the restaurant.

The diner is filled with nighttime loners. Almost everyone is either eating cereal or coffee. A waitress leads me down to a booth. She hands me a menu, telling me that she'll return shortly. I cut her off. I tell her I want coffee, black. She's a bit taken aback my directedness but she nods her head regardless. She takes the menu back, going to the kitchens to make my coffee.

Looking around I notice something that seems a bit off. There are small holes in the ceiling and floor. The holes don't seem random though, there are four of them in a circle on the ceiling with four holes in a circle on the ground. On another part of the room, the same pattern happens. Four holes in a circle on the ground and floor. From my knowledge of being a stripper, I believe these holes once held up poles. This diner was once a strip club.

"Excuse me," I say when the waitress comes back with my coffee.

"Yes?" The waitress says.

"Who owns the underground part of this establishment?"

The waitress smiles. "We do, but it's now used for storage." The waitress leaves.

This diner used to be called the Blue Iguana, at least the underground part of it was. Later, when the Blue Iguana got sold to Tony, it became Tony's Club. Tony also bought the upper level. I used to strip here before it became a diner. Katie, James, Effy, and I all used to dance here. We were happy once, all of us. Where did out happiness go? I think it got lost between Effy and James' heroin addiction and Katie's disappearance.

Not waiting for the waitress to bill me, I leave a few dollars on the table. My coffee has gone cold as well as untouched. I leave the diner, heading back to my car, driving away to my apartment.

I take the elevator up, but I don't go to my room yet. I make left, going to Naomi's apartment. It's always unlocked for some reason. I lay down on a couch, ready to finally go to sleep.

I can't go to sleep though. Maybe it's the fumes of the paint that are making me say awake, but I can't get any shuteye. So instead, I look out the window at the stars like I did at Naomi's house. I watch the sky change colour from black, to midnight blue, to indigo. When the first rays of light came in I hear the door turn. Naomi comes in. I have memorized the sound of her footsteps to know that, that is her.

She walks around the apartment muttering things to herself. I can't hear exact words, just ramblings. I hear her slam her fists into the wall.

"Goddamnit Naomi, stop being such a bloody coward," She says. She punches the walls a few more times. I hear her footsteps getting louder. She's walking closer and closer to me.

"Naomi?" I say.

Naomi freezes. I lift my body up from its laid out position.

"How much did you hear?" She asks.

"That you're a 'bloody coward'."

I could see Naomi biting her bottom lip. "Well, I am a bloody coward."

"Defiantly," I agree.

She walks a bit closer to me. "Oi, you're not suppose to agree with that."

"Well, I just did."

The only thing that is between Naomi and I is the couch now. She knows it. I know it. She leans down, looks me in the eye, and then kisses me.

"I'm a bloody coward, because I didn't tell you, that I love you," Naomi finally says between a kiss.

I wrap my hands around her face, bringing her closer. She slides onto the couch, her body on top of mine now. We make love slowly. Each item of clothing gets discarded one by one. My dress, her wife beater, my bra, her pants, my knickers, her knickers all get thrown onto the floor. We plant kisses on each new part of new exposed flesh.

My hand slithers down from her jaw to her breast to her hips down to her very center. I press my palm into her using her juices to slide over her sex in a smooth motion. Naomi pulls her mouth away from mine, taking a sharp intake of breath. She presses her thigh onto my sex. I remove my hand from her, in its place is my thigh. Together we are in motion, making love to each other on the edge of this couch. We are finding, willing, our bodies to match up and respond to our hearts as we become one.

As we came down from this passion, I could not doubt her love for me. For when she climaxed she whispered in my ear of her devotion. And when it was over, our bodies heaving from delight, she repeated her vow.

"I love you, you know," I say finally.

"I know," she says.

"Just don't forget it, yea?"

We watch the sky, trickle in the earliest rays of light. The white walls seem to only project the colour the sky became.

"Do you think we could just stay like this for a bit?" Naomi asks. Her hand traces my skin.

"For a bit," I say.

As the morning sun finally comes into view, I know my time is up. I will have to return to Tony and be the duteous girlfriend. I grab my clothes, leaving my knickers behind. I cross the hallway to my room. I unlock the door and close it.

Tony's still sleeping, I hear the sound of his light snores. I go to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes along the way. I wash the smell of Naomi off of me. One day, maybe tomorrow or the next, I hope to never wash away the scent of Naomi.

After my shower, I dry off, put a slip on, and lay next to Tony. I ball up into a corner, my legs tucked in, my arms hugging my knees.

I feel like an intruder in my home. I don't feel like I belong here. I belong in Naomi's lumpy bed, her Rachel Maddow poster staring back on a wall, and a spliff between my lips. I don't like how black and white my apartment is. I miss the mismatch colour of Naomi's house. I like how we watch the stars together. Her room filling with darkness; the only light are the stars. I like how we watch the sunrise together. How we wake up early noticing how blue our surroundings are, and as the dawn comes, how the room breaks up with rays of sun.

For the first time, in a long time, I'm in love.

For the first time, in a long time, someone really knows me and loves me for it.

I drift off to sleep, making up for my sleepless night, and wishing that I was in Naomi's lumpy bed in Naomi's orange room with Naomi's arm around me.

* * *

It is six thirty-two, which means that I have one hour and twenty minutes until Matt comes over. I have one hour and twenty minutes to steal five million dollars and hopefully get away with it.

I have been sitting in my closet for thirty-two minutes getting dressed. 'This needs to be real, believable' says Cook. I intend to do everything in my power so that this will be true.

Tony, for the last thirty-two minutes, has been in his office counting the money. I have been waiting for the sound of the case to click shut and the sound of his feet walking across the floors.

It's now six forty-five. I'm getting nervous, what if he decides not to take a shower? This plan sort of depends on him taking a shower.

At six fifty-eight, I finally hear the sound of the case closing. I get out of the closet, all nicely dressed, to go to the living room.

Tony's eyes do a once over when he sees me. I'm wearing a tight fitting white body con dress with three fourth sleeves and a low neck line.

"Oh, Emily, you do look nice," he says.

I walk over and smile. I kiss him on the cheek. He pulls me in closer. Cook's words of advice ring in my ear. I press up against him, which is something I never do. He lowers his hand on my waist, feeling around for the curves of my ass. Usually when this happens I slap Tony. Not tonight though. Tonight, I seductively whisper that he ought to take a shower. He pulls himself away, taking another look at me, and heads to the bathroom.

I go to the bar, take out his favorite drink, walk to the kitchen, and wait for the sound of the shower getting turned on. When the shower gets turned on, I count to five, before dropping the drink.

Tony can hear it from the shower. He turns it off. He comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around him, to see the mess I have created.

"Emily? What the hell happened?" He asks looking at the mess of glass on the ground.

"I was taking out your favorite drink because it was getting dusty and it slipped out of my hand," I say. I bend down to start collecting the glass.

"Shit Emily."

I throw away the big pieces of glass into the trash. I take out the vacuum to clean up the rest. Thankfully, our vacuum can also clean up liquids along with solids. The mess is gone in a few seconds.

"See, look, it's all gone. Now I'm going to go to the store to get your drink, okay?" I say.

Tony scratches his head. "No, there's no time, Matt is going to be here soon."

I put my hands on my hips. "Don't be ridiculous, Matt's coming in an hour. The store is around the corner. I have plenty of time to get your drink and then look pretty."

Tony doesn't look convinced yet. I go over to kiss his forehead.

"Yea, yea, okay," he finally agrees.

He turns around to head back into the bathroom. The door opens, then closes. In the closet I have put a stack of newspapers. I run to the closet getting a jacket and the news papers. I then run to Tony's office, where his desk is. I place the newspapers under the desk. The newspapers will be used to replace the five million Naomi will steal.

I go to the apartment door. I open it. Naomi is there. I try will all my might to restrain myself from kissing her. I can tell she's doing the same. She looks me up and down. She too, likes what she's seeing. It's when her eyes flicker to mine then to my lips that I know she wants me just as much as I want her. We pass each other though, no words, no sounds. I exit. She enters.

I take the elevator down to the lobby. The store is a seven minute walk, four blocks down. I could take a taxi, but really, I need to buy time. I opt for a brisk walk. When I get to the store I find the section that holds Tony's favorite drink. He likes a specific kind, manufactured by a certain company, made in exactly four years ago . . . blah blah blah. I pay for it and leave. I walk back to the apartment. In the lobby I wait an extra two minutes before pressing the elevator up.

I check the time. It is now seven thirty. In the time that I have been gone Naomi should have gotten the five million out of the case with a pick lock, replace the money with newspapers, and gotten her sorry ass out of there.

The elevator dings for my arrival. I open the door.

Tony has gotten dressed in my absence. He is just about done lacing his shoes.

"Hey, did Matt come up?" I ask. This is another part of the plan.

"No, Matt comes at eight. It's only seven thirty now," Tony says. He fixes his collar.

"It's just that, as I was heading upstairs I saw Matt in the lobby going out. I thought he might have come up, talked to you, taken the money, and then left," I explain. I put the drink at the bar. I take off my coat, heading to the closet.

"Emily, that doesn't make any sense."

"I realize that now . . ."

Tony finishes playing with the color of his shirt. He puts his jacket on. "Wait, Emily . . ." Tony goes to his office. The case is still there like it was before. He turns the knob for the combinations. To him all the money looks like it's there. "The money's all here."

"Well, that's funny."

Tony takes a couple of bricks out. He realizes that the bottom layer is filled with newspaper. "Goddamit! He fucking stole the money. Now he's going to come up, dig around, and think I stole it. Shit! What am I going to do?"

"What are you going to do Tony?"

Tony paces back and forth. "Fucking hell! And then he's going to go to Thomas, tell him I stole it, and get me tortured or killed."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know Emily. I don't know! Give me some time!"

"But we don't have any."

Tony's face has gotten all red. He's a madman he is.

"Listen, Matt's going to come up anyways at eight-" I begin.

Tony cuts me off saying, "Just give me space Emily. I know you want to help but just give me some space!"

I walk away from Tony, going to our bedroom. Shortly after, Tony comes in. Underneath our bed is a safe, that's where we keep our guns. Tony pulls one out.

"I don't want to have to kill him, but I will if I have to," Tony says.

I nod my head. He loads the gun.

When he leaves, I take the safe out. I take a gun and load it with one bullet. After all my years in being in the mafia, the one thing I've learnt is you only need one good shot.

The doorbell rings. I tuck the gun up my skirt. I push the safe out of view. Making sure that the outline of the gun isn't in view, I walk to the bar, hiding it between the bottles.

Tony gets the door.

"Aw Matt, so glad you could make it!" Tony greets. He pulls his hand out for a shake. The shake then becomes a hug as Matt pulls Tony into one.

I step from the bar to where Matt and Tony are. They separate from their hug.

"And here's Emily," Tony says.

Matt looks me up and down. Tony watches at Matt looks me up and down. Tony opens he mouth to say something, but then closes it. I stick my hand out for Matt to shake.

"No no Emily. Come on, we're all family!" Matt says. He pulls me into a hug. As he pulls away he kisses me, full, on the lips. "Any girlfriend of Tony's is a girlfriend of mine."

I turn around, going to the living room.

"Doesn't she look like one fine bitch?" I can hear Matt say. He whistles.

"Yea well, I keep her under lock and key," Tony replies. He says this with dry humor.

Tony and Matt head over to the living room where I'm at. They take their seats across from each other. Matt is still holding his long gaze as me. I try to ignore it but it feels like a hot poker, the way he's staring.

"Why don't you make some drinks?" Tony suggests to me.

"Of course," I say. As I pass him I make a point to kiss him on the lips. Tony darts his tongue into my mouth. I dance his tongue with mine, giving out a slight moan for effect. God he tastes disgusting. I don't think he even brushed his teeth.

Tony is the one that breaks the kiss. I walk away. As I turn, he slaps my butt.

Matt is watching this all. Tony knows that Matt is watching. Tony wants to see Matt wither away which is why he's putting on a show.

"God, where can I get a girl like Emily?" Matt asks.

I'm at the bar now, taking two glasses out, putting ice, and pouring Tony's favorite drink in them. I take the glasses to the boys.

When I hand Matt his drink, he makes a point of grazing his hand against mine. Tony takes notice.

"I almost forgot!"I say. I go back to the bar to get coasters. I hand them out. No one seems to notice that I'm not drinking.

"So what's going on with you Matt, got a Miss or two?" Tony inquires. He takes a sip of his drink.

"Something like that," Matt answers. "Anyways, I heard you went to Thomas' for dinner the other night, how was that?"

Tony laughs. "His food is awful, have you been there recently? I just don't understand how anyone that rich, has a slopping cook."

"I don't understand it either. God, it's just horrible down there. I always make sure to keep Altoids in my pocket, that way I can slip it in my mouth to keep from starving to death and to look like I'm eating."

"Really? How do manage to do that?"

Matt laughs. "Well, I just stick some in my pocket before I go. When Thomas isn't looking during dinner I slip some in my mouth. It's easy."

"Well, Emily, I think we should try that next time we go to Thomas'. Doesn't that seem like an ingenious plan?"

"Yes, I wish I thought of it first," I say.

Tony puts his drink on the table, ignoring the coaster I had set up for him. "So enough of this small talk, let's get the money out," Tony says.

"Sure thing," Matt says. "Emily, mind making me another?"

"Nope," I reply. I take his glass. I head over to the bar, making him another drink. I put the ice in, pour the drink, and hand it back. "I think I'm going to make myself something as well." I go back to the bar, taking out a martin glass.

Tony comes back, the case in hand. He places it in front of Matt. Tony sits back in his seat, trying not to look worked up.

"Open it," Tony states.

I slowly set the vodka, extra dry vermouth, and lemon out.

"What's the combination?" Mat questions.

Tony crosses his legs. "What do you mean what's the combination?"

"What?"

Tony uncrosses his legs. He gives Matt a cold, hard glare.

"Emily says that she saw you leaving the lobby at seven thirty. At seven thirty I checked the case and money was missing. Who the fuck took it? You fucking did! Now open the case like you did when you stole the money!" Tony shouts. He pulls out his gun.

"Whoa Tony! No need to take out the big guns," Matt says calmly. He fiddles with the combination. He tries this one and that, but since he doesn't know the combination none of them open.

"So you admit to stealing the money?" Tony asks. He points the gun closer to Matt.

Matt is still struggling with the case. "No, I didn't take it."

Tony puts his gun away. He takes the case into his own hands. He turns the numbers on the combination to the correct setting. The case springs open.

"It looks like it's all there," Matt hopefully says.

"No you fucking twat!" Tony slaps Matt across the face. He digs into the case taking money the money bricks out. "There are newspapers in place of the money you stole!"

Finally this all fits together for Matt. "I didn't take it! I swear I didn't!"

Tony takes his gun out again.

"Where's the money?" Tony asks.

Matt seems to be struggling for words.

"Frankly Matt, I don't give a damn." Tony shoots, piercing Matt's heart. Blood spills on the chair as wells as the money.

I take the gun from between the bottles.

"I took the money," I announce. My hands are shaking, I will them to stop.

"Emily, why?" Tony points the gun at me.

"Because I'm leaving you, the mafia, and all this shit."

Tony lowers his gun. What a stupid fuck! "Emily, you wouldn't do this to us. You love us. You love me. Before me you were nothing. You were stripping on poles every day of the week. I made you who you are!"

I sigh. "Tony, this isn't encouraging me not to kill you."

Tony places his gun down on the table next to his drink. "How many bullets do you got in there? One?"

"Tony, you don't know shit!" I fire the gun to Tony's chest. It goes through him leaving a red stain. Tony collapses on the floor.

I go over to Matt, take my gun and put it in his hand. I walk back to the bar. I call Thomas.

"Thomas, MattkilledTonyandthenbeganharrasingmesoIkilledhim, " I rush out.

I can hear a pause on the other line. "What?"

"Tony stole five million dollars from the money he was suppose to give Matt," I say.

"What?"

"Matt got the money, opened the case, and realized that Tony stole the money. Matt killed Tony."

There is a silence on the other line. I go on.

"You know how Matt always has this thing about stealing Tony's girls? Well, after Matt killed Tony he began harassing me, so I had to kill him. Now there are two dead bodies in the living room. Thomas, can you please come over, I don't know what to do!"

I hear a sigh on the other line. "Yea, sure. I'll be there right away."

I put the phone down. I just got away with murder and five million dollars!

There's a knock at the door. I go over. It's Naomi.

"Your still here?" I ask.

"Always," she promises.


	14. In Which We Bust Effy Out of Jail

Chapter Fourteen: In Which We Bust Effy Out of Jail

It's a week after we stole the money. Today is the funeral. Of course, I'm not going. According to Emily the funeral consists of three people Thomas, the pastor, and herself. She rummages through her side of my drawers, trying to find something black to wear. When she does, she gets dressed. She's wearing a black taffeta dress with back shoes and a hat. Just for fun she makes her lipstick black as well as her nails.

"Aren't you a proper mourning woman?" I comment. I'm in the bed, watching her as she gets ready.

She blows on her nails, drying the paint. "Don't you know it?"

She makes a point to kiss me, full, on the lips.

* * *

Later, when Emily has gone, I go to Cassie's room. James, Cook, and Pandora are there sharing a spliff. James is talking when I enter.

"So let me get this straight . . ." James says to Cassie, "You deal to most if not all of the jails in New York."

Cassie nods her head. She exhales smoke. I see her pass the spliff to Cook.

"What jail did you go to?" James directs this question to me.

Cook, thankfully, hands me the spliff. "They called it the Katherine Correctional Facility," I say. I blow smoke in James' face. "But we all knew it was a low security prison for stupid people getting caught for stupid things."

"I deal there," Cassie amuses. "It's pretty easy. In fact, there's an underground road that was made in the late eighteenth century. No one really knows about it. The road leads to the boiler room. Only the maintence person goes there, he goes by the name Mad."

"So do you think it's possible?" I ask.

"Oh yes, definitely. I once smuggled a whole barrel full of coke. I'm sure it would be like cake to take a person."

Cook narrows his eyes. Certainly it couldn't be that hard to get Effy out of jail?

"I'll call Mad, he'll help us."

The rest of us shrugged our shoulders, it seems like Cassie has this plan all planned out.

* * *

It's late at night; Emily is sleeping next to me, in my lumpy old bed. She sleeps naked, it's something new she likes to do. I think Emily's lack of Pajamas symbolizes a rebirth. Maybe I'm looking too much into it. She told me, the other day when I was poking fun at her expensive clothes, that her clothes were a uniform that Tony made her wear. So I suppose it makes sense that Emily has become a nudist.

The hardest part about sleeping next to a naked women is resisting the urge to touch her all over. Right now, I have my hands under my back, my body holding them down. The best part about sleeping next to a naked women is the amount of perving time one can get in.

I hear a knock at my door. I sigh. Rachel Maddow stares down at me. I carefully, leave the bed, making sure the nudist isn't awake. I step out of the room.

James is at the door. He makes a motion for me to be quiet. He leads me to Cassie's room.

Pandora, Cook, and Cassie are all dressed head to toe in black. Cassie wasn't joking about the wheel barrel full of coke. Next to her is that very wheel barrel. She has black gloves in her hands and hats.

"I say, we need secret code names," Cook announces. He puts his gloves on, along with his hat. Everyone else in the room follows him.

Cassie hands James and I black clothes. We both strip, putting them on. There is no discussion about whether or not we want to sell a wheel barrel full of coke to get Effy. Cassie just assumes that we are in for the kill.

"Can I be Pandapops?" Pandora inquires.

"Sure," Cook agrees. "I'll be Cookie Monster. Cassie, what's your name going to be?"

"Slughorn," she says thoughtfully.

"Jameson . . ." James wonders.

"Like the pornstar, I like it!" Cookie Monster says. "Naomikins?"

"Maddow," I say. I smile as I put the hat on. It has holes in it, so my eyes can see through. The material is thin enough so I can breathe.

Cassie hands us these Chinese black shoes. All of us, put them on.

"Alright, here's the deal, Cookie Monster help me load this into the van. I'll drive. Maddow, you are shotgun. Jameson, Pandapops, and Cookie Monster get in the back and guard the supplies. I'll give you further instructions once we head out on the road," Slughorn instructs.

We head out to Slughorn's van. I get up in front. A moment later, the 'baggage' gets loaded. Slughorn sits next to me, at the wheel. She drives out of the drive way, her foot heavy on the gas.

"Now, it usually takes an hour to get to the prison. However, since we have a huge amount of supply and I don't particularly want to get caught, we are taking all the back roads, this will be two hours," Slughorn says.

"Can you put on the radio?" Jameson asks from the back.

"No," Slughorn sternly says, "And if I hear any talking I will force all of that coke down your throat so you will overdose and die. Also, Pandapops, make sure the Cookie Monster's hands don't reach into the cookie jar."

The next two hours are dreadful. There is this long pregnant silence that stretches for what seems like forever. Slughorn is concentrating very hard at the road. It occurs to me that I don't have my phone. None of the others have their phone either, otherwise I would see light from the back. Slughorn is one fucking crazy fuck.

Two hours later, we are in the middle of a national park. The van is parked a mile away, hidden in the parks' foliage. Slughorn makes us walk to a pond. She keeps walking into the water, till the surface hits her neck. She feels around with her foot. She stops walking and turns around to us. "There's a hole in this pond, it's the beginning of the underground road that leads to Katherine. It goes straight down about ten feet, then it levels off for another ten, and then it goes up to a tunnel cave thing where there the pond ends . . . everyone, take a deep breath, follow me."

I see Slughorn take a huge breath and dive down into the pond. I follow. I take as deep as a breath as I can. I flip myself so my head is going into the tunnel, and try to feel along the sides to know where I'm going. I don't open my eyes, afraid of what I might see. The tunnel levels off. By the time the tunnel goes up, my lungs are combusting. I will myself to go faster. When I break the surface, it is like heaven on earth.

"Now we just have to wait for the others," Slughorn says.

I take off my hat to rinse it out. Behind me, Pandapops emerges. Jameson comes next. There is a two minute interval until I see the Cookie Monster rises. He has the 'luggage' in hand. Cassie must've waterproofed the barrel so the coke wouldn't dissolve in the water.

"It's five miles to the prison. If we jog, we can make it under a hour and a half. I told Mad, we would be there at four. She would have the girl at hand, and all we would have to do is a simple trade," Slughorn says. She starts jogging, a flashlight in hand. There's a pile of flashlights at the edge of the pond. I get one, making a point to keep up with the crazy girl.

By the second mile, my legs are killing me. I was not built for running or whatever this is. I'm a smoker. All this deep breathing and shit is messing with my lungs. Slughorn steadily jogs, never breaking pace. Only three more miles to go. I try to think of everything but the fact I'm jogging. I think of Emily and how she's naked in my lumpy bed. I think of how amazing these weeks with Emily have been. I sort of drift into an Emily daydream.

Slughorn slows down . It's the end of the tunnel. She walks around kicking the walls of dirt. In particular, she kicks the wall to her right. Without telling me, I kick the wall beside her. About three inches in, there is a metal door. With our hands we crumble the wall further. She checks the time. It's three fifty-eight. In two minutes Effy shall be handed to us in exchange of coke.

The Cookie Monster arrives just on time to deliver the goods. The door opens, a skinny shaken brunette girl with duct tape gets thrown into the tunnel. A man with a huge mustache comes through the door.

"Coke?" He says.

The Cookie Monster hands him the barrel. The door closes. Slughorn makes us rebuild the dirt wall. To dampen the dirt the Cookie Monster pees in it. Jameson is hunched over, looking at his very delirious friend.

The girl known as Effy, has her eyes wide in shock. She points a trembling finger at Cassie. Effy mutters some words through her duct tape. James doesn't understand.

Once the wall is built up we take the five mile run back to the pond. Time seems to be going faster since we don't have to wait for Cook lugging around a barrel. Effy seems quite shaken but at the same time, she doesn't make a run from us.

We go through the pond, to the other side. Pandora, Cook, and James are keeping a close eye on Effy, making sure she doesn't make a run for it. James in particular, is holding her hand.

Once in the van, Cassie drives us back home. It takes an hour this time. Instead of smuggling coke, we're smuggling a prisoner. Cassie turns the radio on.

"Now, it seems, that at the Katherine Correctional Facility, a women of the name Elizabeth Stonem broke out of there last night. Police are still investigating. If you see a women with brunette hair, blue eyes, five foot six, and has a heroin addiction please call-"

Cassie turns the radio off. Glancing at her, I can tell she has a slight smirk.

We arrive back at the house at six thirty. James takes Effy to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I use the bathroom in the upstairs. Everyone else would have their turn. I take a quick shower, then I climb into bed with my favorite red head. She turns over to me. Slowly, she is awakening from her slumber.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," I reply.

"How long have you been awake?" She asks.

I smile. "For a while."

I lean back into my lumpy bed, finally getting some shuteye.


End file.
